Charming Pawse Bk3 Ch11 TurningTurning Recovery
by wanderingchat
Summary: Gemma explains why she returned to Charming and informs her son that Abel is in Belfast.  Stahl decides to use Gemma as a pawn in her quest against SAMCRO.  Cat takes steps to deal with her own depression and injuries. Tig has a painful decision to make.


The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists.

All original characters that are not part of the SOA universe are products of my own imagination. Any similarities to any real persons are pure coincidence.

Love and thanks go to the DH, who is very much alive and well; along with my best friend and my 'unofficial' god – daughter for being part of my family. Also, much thanks to the members of , , the Indy Tarts and Tartans Gerard Butler fan group, SOA Forums, Watchers of Anarchy, Kim Sisk (author of Sapphires and Whiskey), and my Facebook and Twitter friends for their support. A big thank you for those readers who have written reviews and listed me as a favorite author here at FanFiction. Net.

Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager.

**Charming Pawse**

**Book III**

**Chapter XI**

**Turning and Turning**

**The Push **

**Recoveries**

Tig leaned against the wall of the waiting area, watching Jax pour a hefty amount of sugar into a cup of coffee. 'Shit, man! Have a little coffee with your sugar! It may not be as good as Cat's blends, but it's not _that _bad, brother!'

His thoughts drifted back over his woman's behavior in her sleep and her denial of it that morning. Only a few minutes earlier, Cat's friend June had told him all the stress since the wreck was raising Hell with her PTSS and depression.

'The 'Tarts Night Out' to Stockton would've done her a lot of good, if I hadn't asked her to help find Gem! June's right, I've gotta take her away from this for awhile! But _when_ can we get away?'

He gazed across the room at his brothers. Chibs, Juice, and Opie were sitting together, waiting patiently for word on Gemma's condition. Juice was skimming through a magazine.

Bobby strode into the waiting area straight to Jax's side. He indicated they needed to talk privately. Jax set the sugar container on the counter and strode off in the direction of the hospital chapel. His brothers followed close behind.

'Church in a regular chapel. That's gotta be a first for us!' Tig mused as they settled into the various pews to talk.

Jax was still insistent on going after his son in Vancouver, giving Bobby the go - ahead to send the money to Serge's tracker. Once assured that Gemma was out of danger, Jax would head to Vancouver to recover his son.

Chibs and Opie offered to go along with Jax, which he readily accepted. "There's no sense in all of us going," the VP added. "If we all take off, it'll make the judge more inclined to revoke our bail."

The others readily agreed. Bobby announced no matter how many took the trip North, it was going to cost money the club didn't have readily available.

'Don't even _think_ of askin' Cat to finance it!' Tig fumed inwardly. 'It tore her up to admit she was initially reluctant to our last need for money! I'll be damned if I put her through that again!'

Juice murmured the steroids and other drugs could be hustled on the street. The HIV protocols had a limited clientèle. The only places he could think to unload them were clinics.

'Not like there's a lot of work for HIV drug dealers in Charming!' Tig mused to himself.

Jax suggested taking the steroids to Lumpy's gym, which made plenty of sense to Tig. While Lumpy wouldn't touch performance enhancing drugs, he knew the old trainer's employees would jump at the chance to get their hands on the vials.

Juice had a connection on the streets known as 'Chicken Man'. The pusher would pay top dollar for the other drugs. It looked like the drugs they'd confiscated from the peckerwoods at Honey's would pay for the Canada run.

Tara slowly opened the door to the chapel after peeking into the window to see if the Sons were inside. She had a feeling they were talking club business, but the news she had to deliver wouldn't wait.

Jax saw her face framed in the door window as she opened it. His expression clued in Tig and Juice, whose backs were to the door, to clam up.

They definitely appreciated knowing Gemma was finally awake and wanting to talk to Jax. The VP followed her out of the chapel, assuring his brothers he would give Gemma their love.

"It'll be good to see Lumpy," Tig mused after the chapel doors swung shut behind Jax. "Haven't had time to visit him since the rally."

"Huh!" Bobby snorted. "I would've thought he woulda gone to the hospital to visit Cat!"

"He did. SleevedBiker told me about it while I was in Oregon. He came by while I was out and she was asleep. He talked to SleevedBiker just long enough to find out she was OK and left."

"Hasnae 'e bin showin' oop regular ta tha CBA meetins'?" Chibs inquired. "Dinnae she tell ye 'ow tha auld mon's doin'?"

Tig shrugged. "She says he looks sad and tired."

"That's normal for Lumpy!" Juice supplied with a slight grin.

"No shit!" Tig replied. "He keeps to himself durin' the meetings. Sits and listens to the others and drinks tea. He usually helps her clean up after."

"Don't they ever talk about things other than business?" Opie inquired.

Tig shrugged. "She asks, and it's always the same answer: he's fine, the business is fine."

Juice glanced at the SAA sitting in the pew next to him. "Speaking of fine, how's Cat this mornin'? She took Gem's capture kinda hard last night."

"She was OK when I left. Prolly workin' on orders and shit at the coffeehouse," Tig replied, wincing inwardly at the evasive tone in his voice.

"You sure she's OK? She was pretty bent out of shape," Juice insisted. "I'm worried about her."

"Ya think I'm not?" Tig growled, his hand rubbed against the little cave man charm tucked under his shirt.

"Easy, Tigger," Bobby interjected soothingly. "We owe your old lady a lot for steppin' in when Gem went on the lam."

'You got that right!' Tig glared at his brothers. "She'll be a'right," he assured them. "Juice, you set up the meet with that 'Chicken Man' of yours. Get the drugs and meet us at the clubhouse. You, me, and Bobby will go to Lumpy's from there."

"I've gotta wire that money to Serge's tracker anyway," Bobby replied, striding to the chapel doors. "I'll catch up with ya later."

Cat stared unseeingly into the black computer screen in the office of _Charming Pawse. _She reclined against the back of the chair while the printer busily printed out the invoices for the web orders. 'I should be workin' on the emails, but just can't wrap my mind around 'em right now!'

The fingers of her uninjured hand drummed restlessly on the desk, keeping time with the music playing out in the customer area. Pete had the tape she titled '_Pop Muzik_' - tunes from the so - called second British invasion - from the early 80's in the sound system.

The music reminded her of the selections she'd put together for Alex's associate, Bachman. That memory had led her thoughts back to her conversation with Alex that morning:

"_I really wish y'all would provide a 'spew alert' before you spout such nonsense!" she sputtered, hastily wiping at the coffee that leaked down her chin. She'd nearly spewed the liquid all over the kitchen table in response to Alex's comment. _

"_It's _not_ nonsense, baby! Ya turned your back on me last night while cryin' in your sleep!" Alex insisted, his eyes boring into hers. _

"_Me? Turn my back on a chance to be in your arms? Y'all must've confused the catnip for the wacky weedus, love!" she smirked. "I just can't see myself turnin' y'all away, even in my sleep!" _

"_I know the difference between catnip and grass, baby," he growled. "The two have distinctively different aromas!" He sipped at his coffee as he gazed at her face. There was a set of lines around her eyes, even the bandaged one, that he hadn't noticed before. _

_Her unbandaged eye sparkled with indignation. The white of that eye was still slightly red from her crying binge. He imagined the other eye was just as red, though he'd been unable to tell for sure when he'd changed the bandage. _

_The coffee cup hid his grin of amusement as he recalled how vehemently Cat had protested against it. She felt a few tears hadn't damaged the bandage, but he'd ignored her protests and changed the salt encrusted gauze for a fresh, sterile pad._

_He'd been relieved that her injured eye didn't appear swollen. The skin around it looked clean and free of any signs of infection in the dim light provided by the night light. _

_'I better not push this. She's just gonna deny it, and prolly get herself all riled up again if I keep at her.' He set the coffee cup down on the table, reaching out to rub his knuckles against her cheek. _

"_Guess you're right, baby. I must've dreamed it," he acknowledged. _

_Her hand closed over his, a slight smile brightened her features. "I'm not surprised, love! Y'all wolfed down your dinner and immediately engaged in some pretty strenuous exercise!" _

"_You have a wicked tongue in that head, woman!" he growled. _

"_And y'all like the wicked things it does to certain parts of your body!" she fired back. _

"_Yeah. That's why I keep ya around," he grinned teasingly. _

_She rewarded him with the one fingered salute. "Love y'all, too!" She picked up her coffee cup again and added, "Will all y'all be headin' off to Canada after Abel anytime soon?" _

_He nearly spewed his own mouthful of coffee. "Damn, baby! I just got home and you're sendin' me out the door again?" _

"_Not hardly. Just thinkin' logically," she replied quietly. "Trust me, I'm not lookin' to invite any more actors to visit while you're gone!" _

_Alex's stomach gave a funny little flip at her off - hand reassurance. "Jax won't wanna wait too long once Gem's awake. We can't let the trail grow cold." _

_Cat nodded in understanding. "About what I thought. There's not much of a margin for lookin' with that bond revocation hearin' loomin' ahead! Damn Hale and his machinations!" _

"_I could stay home this time," Alex offered nonchalantly, watching her through hooded eyelids. _

_Cat's heart leapt at the idea. She knew it wasn't easy for him to make such an offer. His position within the club didn't allow that kind of latitude. She moved from her chair to slide onto his lap, her uninjured hand caressed his cheek. _

"_Y'all certainly know how to sweep a woman off her feet, love!" she replied huskily. "I appreciate the offer, but y'all have a job to do, and sittin' here holdin' my hand isn't in that job description."_

_He leered at her as his arms wrapped around her, drawing her close. "Holdin' your hand ain't exactly what I was thinkin' of doin'!" _

"_So I noticed," she replied slyly, feeling his cock grow hard against her rear end. "You, my love, have an incredibly dirty mind!" _

"_Ya keep sayin' a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste," he chuckled. _

"_And y'all don't let your mind _or _body go to waste," she observed, resting her head against his shoulder. _

_They remained sitting together for several minutes, neither finding a need to fill the silence with small talk. Eventually, Alex sighed and reluctantly nudged her to get up. "I gotta go, baby. Ya gonna be around later?" _

"_Either here, or the coffeehouse working in the office," she replied, sliding off his lap so he could get up. _

_He shrugged into his cut and gazed down at her, a slight smile playing across his face. "Try not to do too much, baby. You're still healin'." _

_She slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. He placed his chin on top of her head as his arms enfolded him in a warm embrace. _

"_Did I mention it's good to be home?" he murmured. _

"_I believe you made that pretty obvious," she replied, stepping out of his embrace. As he strode to the door, she added, "I'll see ya when I see ya, love." _

She sighed in frustration, glaring at the computer screen in front her. The white bandage over her eye glared back at her. 'For all my denial, what Alex described might've actually happened. I don't like where this is headin' at all! You've gotta pull yourself together, girl!'

She reached for the office phone just as it rang. 'Talk about good timin'!' She picked up the receiver. "Thank you for callin' _Charmin' Pawse_. This is Cat speakin'."

"Hello, there!" her Indiana doctor's cheerful voice sounded in her ear. "How's my favorite former patient?"

"Not very patient, I'm afraid," she replied dryly. "What has y'all callin' here in the middle of a busy day for you?"

"I got a call from my cousin," Dr. Pinkerton admitted. "She thought you might want to talk to someone you trust."

"She hasn't even seen me since the wreck!" Cat protested hotly.

"True. From what she told me, you've not been very easy on yourself ever since."

"Isn't that a HIPPA violation?" Cat growled.

"Nope," the doctor laughed. "We didn't discuss your medical history from the hospital, we just shared concern about a friend!"

"That's your story and you're stickin' with it, eh?" she replied. "Fine. Just how have I not been easy on myself?"

"For one, I'm not very sanguine about you leaving the hospital so soon after the accident! I hope you had a good reason."

"I did. How much of the local news has your cousin shared with y'all?"

"All of it. Plus what I've read on the internet through my Ipad."

"When did y'all change to that? Isn't it a little large to carry around?"

"Some time ago. While it's a little more bulky than the Palm Pilot, I don't have to squint to see what I'm doing with it. Touch screens are wonderful things!" Dr. Pinkerton explained. "So I know of everything that's been going on out there. Want me to elaborate?"

Cat met her inquiry with a long silence before replying. "Sounds like the only thing that didn't make news was that my old man had to leave town for awhile."

"My cousin mentioned it. I don't buy that story about you sending him off to a car show to relax. Not when he should be taking care of you. Just what the Hell is going on over there?"

"Oh, just your usual California craziness," Cat replied evasively.

"Look, hon. I don't have all day to play word feud with you. I'm supposed to be having lunch, but using it to call you," Dr. Pinkerton's voice sounded a bit muffled. "Hope you don't mind if I eat while we talk. That's why I have you on speaker phone."

"Be my guest," Cat grinned ruefully. "If y'all don't mind me multitaskin', and puttin' y'all on speaker phone as well."

She activated said option on the base of the phone and rolled the chair over to the door to close it so she'd have privacy. Then she rolled back to the desk.

"I can hear your printer in the background, sounds like business is good."

"It's perkin' along!" Cat grinned

"Oh, Lord! That was a terrible pun!" Dr. Pinkerton frowned into the phone. 'She sounds normal to me. Could my cousin have been wrong?'

"I don't have to tell y'all that things have been a little tense around here the last few weeks. I feel like the whole world's weighin' on me, doc."

'Finally! We get down to business!' The good doctor relaxed at her friend's admission. "Uh, huh. Feeling a bit overwhelmed?"

"More like a lot overwhelmed," she admitted somewhat reluctantly. "I'm tired all the time, but thought it was due to the injuries."

"That's possible," Dr. Pinkerton admitted.

Cat recounted the previous day's activities from meeting Gerard Butler and spending the day with him to Alex's insistence that she'd turned her back on his attempt to comfort her in her sleep.

"You've been takin' your meds, I assume?" Dr. Pinkerton inquired.

"Religiously. Could the meds for my injuries be playin' havoc?"

"I thought about that. The hospital pharmacy would've checked for drug interactions. Frankly, it's not too alarming that you're having these feelings."

"I'm glad _you_ think so!" Cat retorted. "I don't like this feelin', doc. It scares me."

"I know it does, hon. It'd help if there was someone you could talk to, like a councilor or minister or someone like that."

Cat thought of her old friend, Chris Bush. He was the minister of the Charming United Methodist Church and had given her use of the church's fellowship hall for the rally.

"There's a minister in town I knew from my high school years. I could probably talk to him, but it's kinda difficult to be able to open up about some things."

"Don't non Catholic clergy have the same moral code that governs priests?"

"Kinda sorta. They're not bound by a code of what 'happens in confession stays in confession', but the same principle applies," Cat explained. "I remember Daddy would sometimes council people, listen to their problems, and try to find theological and/or spiritual solutions."

"So why not talk to this minister?" Dr. Pinkerton inquired. "Surely he wouldn't betray your confidence!"

"He wouldn't," Cat assured her, choosing for once not to respond as she normally would to the 'surely' trigger. "I just don't feel it's right to tell him compromising things."

Dr. Pinkerton sighed. "I _knew_ you'd say that, but I had to ask. Much as I hate adding to the chemicals in your system, I think your depression and anti - anxiety meds could use a boost."

"You can't send a prescription all the way out here!" Cat protested.

"No, but my cousin can phone one in to the pharmacy if she thinks you need it. Got any time to stop into the office today?"

"I'll either have to get a ride or call a cab. I'm not allowed to drive or ride until I'm outta the cast and bandages."

"Serves you right!" Dr. Pinkerton smirked. "At least it means you have to take better care of yourself for awhile."

"You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes! And y'all don't need a needle to do it!" Cat retorted.

"You love me!" Dr. Pinkerton chortled. "Just get to my cousin's office later today. She'll take a look at you, then phone in a 'script to the hospital pharmacy for Abilify. We'll see if that perks you up."

"I hope it does."

"If it doesn't, then you might need to look into counseling, hon. Too bad that club of your old man's doesn't have a chaplain."

Cat snorted with laughter. "Darlin', that's as much of a misnomer as military intelligence and jumbo shrimp!"

"Yes, I suppose it is," the physician replied. "Listen, hon, my lunch is almost over. I'll call my cousin, let her know to expect you later today. In the meantime, take care of yourself."

"I'll try."

"On second thought, tell that man of yours to take care of you, and you let him do it! Doctor's orders!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Cat laughed, adding a cheerful goodbye to her doctor and friend. As soon as she disconnected the call, her cell phone erupted with Gerry's singing voice. The Caller ID indicated it was coming from Dr. Gallagher.

"Cat, I had a cancellation this afternoon," the hospital doctor announced. "Would you be able to come in today so I can check your ribs and lungs?"

She did some rapid calculations. She figured she might be able to get one of the staff to take her to the doctor's office, then the hospital, and she could catch a ride home with June.

'I need to check in with the billing department, anyway, make sure Reese, Chuckie, and Gemma's accounts are gettin' paid.' She accepted the appointment and stuffed the phone back in her pocket.

A knock at the door caught her attention. "Enter!" she called.

"Everything going all right, Miss Cat?" Pete inquired as he opened the office door. He'd taken a large bag of trash out to the dumpster. He was on his way back to the front and was concerned over the closed door.

"Just peachy! This is turnin' out to be a doctor day," she explained her need to get to both her regular doctor and the hospital later that day. "I was considerin' callin' a cab."

"Save your money, Miss Cat. I'll take you, if you can get home from the hospital," Pete replied, adding a bit apologetically, "I've got plans tonight."

"Good for you!" she exclaimed. "Let me call June and see if she'll let me bum a ride home with her. Check back with me in a bit."

June was more than willing to bring her home. "I've got a meetin' that might run into the late afternoon. That might give y'all time to visit Gemma."

"Among other things," Cat replied. "I'll call y'all when I get there."

"I'll put in a good word for good results," June added.

The screen saver had long ago turned to a black screen, so she wiggled the mouse to refresh it and return to the emails. Several new ones had popped in during the phone conversation. One immediately caught her eye from the concessions manager at Stockton Prison.

"_Dear Ms. Marshall; _

_I am happy to inform you that Charming Pawse has met all the requirements to obtain a concession license with Stockton Prison beginning with the third quarter of this year and continuing for a period of 24 months. The enclosed attachment contains the guidelines for packaging, pricing, invoicing, delivery, and other matters pertaining to this venture. _

_If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to contact my office.' _

"Stahl must've woke up in a generous mood this mornin'!" Cat observed wryly. "Considerin' how busy she was last night, she should've! Guess the club'll be happy with this news, means more money in their pockets."

She opened the attachment and skimmed the contents. Tamper proof packaging, delivery once a week, double sign off inventory lists, and the prison would keep one percent of the week's total sales. She sent the attachment to the printer, requesting multiple copies.

'I'll hand that out at the next staff meetin'. It'll mean a little additional work for us, but we should be able to manage.'

While the copies printed, she reviewed the remainder of the emails, typing out answers and filing the various emails for future reference. She always kept the original and her answers in the email server's file folders, and kept a back up in a Word Document file for safe keeping.

By the time she'd answered the emails and sorted through the web order invoices, the print outs of the Stockton concession were ready to be sorted and collated.

She patted the top of the printer encouragingly. "You've not had a work out like this in awhile. Better get used to it, friend!" She thought a moment, then wrote a note on her 'to - do' clipboard to look into getting a copier.

"You've got mail!" The computer announced happily.

"You don't have to be so damn cheerful about it!" she snarked good naturedly. The latest email was from the county election board, answering her inquiry about running for a seat on the city council.

She read through the email, which confirmed what she'd already learned on line from the web site. She had to present a petition showing that city residents supported her candidacy in order to be put on the ballot. All campaign ads had to be approved by her own committee to elect. She met the residency requirements and was not a convicted felon.

"Alex won't be happy with this idea. He's been very over - protective since LOAN tried to take me out. This will make me more of a target, especially if Hale's lackeys consider me a legitimate threat. We'll probably have to go public about our marriage.'

She shrugged the thoughts to the back of her mind as she didn't know when they'd get the opportunity to talk about it. She knew she'd have to make a decision soon, but she wanted to be fair with Alex, and give him as much forewarning and input as possible.

She grabbed her headphones and pocket cassette player so she could listen to her own choice of music while packing the web orders. The tape she selected had selections from Kid Rock, Hank Williams, Jr., and Nickelback.

She packed all the web orders in Priority Mail boxes, double checking the invoices with the packed items before securing and labeling them for shipping.

Once the web orders were done, she checked through the coffeehouse inventories. She checked the physical counts against the logged use of beans, flavorings, merchandise, and supplies. The figures all matched and she put in orders with her vendors for necessary replacements.

It didn't take long for her endeavors to tire her. She refused to take a rest break out of sheer determination and stubbornness. She wanted to get the work completed so that she'd be ready to leave when Pete clocked out.

Her injuries and healing body had other ideas, forcing her to finally seek a breather in the office. She decided to update Alex about her afternoon itinerary.

"Hey, love. For somebody who bitches about playin' phone tag, y'all do a good job of it yourself! Just wanted to let you know Pete's takin' me to Dr. P's for a check up about the 'indigo funk'. She has somethin' in mind that could help me over the hump. Then stoppin' in at St. Thomas to take care of business and see Dr. Gallagher. June will bring me home. See ya when I see ya!"

* * *

><p>"Evil Twins Productions, how may I help you?"<p>

"'Ey, darlin'! Still holdin' down tha fort fer me?"

"Of course! How's the trip, boss?" his girl Friday replied, a warm smile lighting her voice.

"Verra productive, darlin'. Found meself a nice, vintage 'Arley, an' lairned a loot o' gud info fer me role!"

"Glad to hear it. Will you be comin' back to LA soon?"

"Eventually. Ah need ye ta do sumthin' fer me."

"Of course!"

Gerry dictated his request to his girl Friday. "You sure you want to do this for some outlaw motorcycle rider's old lady?"

"Aye. Tha woman myte be an auld lady ta un o' tha members, but she 'as 'er own code o' ethics, walks 'er own walk an' carries a loot o' respect wi' tha bhoys. Sumun' lyke 'er is rare in this wurld. Ah wanna 'elp 'er."

"Sounds like she made quite an impression, boss."

"Aye. She treated me lyke un o' tha bhoys, instead o' sum faymus star."

The girl Friday knew how much that kind of thing meant to her employer. Few people were able to see past his celebrity to the person behind the image. "OK, Gerry. I'll take care of it!" she replied.

"Thank ye, darlin'. Ah knew ye wuld, ahfter ye gie me a peece o' yer mind!"

"All part of the friendly service, boss! Take care!" She hung up the phone and turned to her computer screen. She activated a new window and began furiously tapping instructions into the database, entering the information Gerry had given her.

She sat back in her chair when the display indicated the transaction had successfully completed and made a note on her to - do list to contact the hospital later to confirm their receipt.

"I'd love to be a fly on the wall when the accounting department sees _that_!" she sipped from her steaming mug of coffee before going on to the next task on her agenda.

* * *

><p>Jax followed Tara into the jail ward towards his mother's room. He didn't acknowledge the deputy sheriff standing next to Pozo's door, nor did he glance at the Clavarez gunman being wheeled back to his room by a nursing aide.<p>

Pozo glared angrily at the Sons VP as they passed within inches of each other. He growled menacing through his wired jaw, but the words were indistinct to all who heard them. The deputy opened the door for the aid who steered Pozo into his room, closing the door behind them.

Jax sneered at Pozo's attempt to intimidate him. 'It'll take a lot more than mumbled Spanish curses to bother me, friend!' He stopped in front of the door to his mother's room, raising his arms to allow the Fed to search him for contraband.

He knew as soon as Gemma's steely glare focused on him from her bed that he was in deep trouble. It was the same expression she'd worn when she'd caught him in the act when he was a kid. He smiled warmly, turning on all his charm in hopes of keeping his mother calm.

Clay stood on one side of her bed, his expression grave and concerned. Tara started to step out of the room to give them some privacy, but Gemma called her back.

She was hurt and angry that the three of them had out and out lied to her about Abel since she'd gone on the lam. She would deal with Tig, Bobby, and everyone else who had participated in the cover up later. For now, she demanded the truth from her family.

'Damn! She's got me by the short hairs!' Jax had no choice but to admit that Abel had been taken by Cameron Hayes the night she went on the lam. He assured her that the bounty hunter the club had hired tracked the two to Vancouver. He pulled out the print out of the security camera photo of Abel and Cameron in the train station and passed it to Gemma.

Her eyes hungrily devoured the picture of her grandson in Cameron Hayes' arms. 'At least Abel looks a'right! But he isn't in Vancouver now!' She felt that familiar tightness begin to form in her chest, but she was determined to ignore it.

'Jax is operatin' on bad intel. I've gotta set him straight right now!' She snapped their lie to protect her was bullshit then announced that Abel wasn't in Vancouver, but in Belfast.

Jax was stunned by his mother's pronouncement. 'Mom's still gotta be doped up! That picture proves Abel's in Canada!'

Clay was just as shocked. He stepped a little closer to the bed as Gemma explained about the telephone call she'd received the night before that triggered her collapse.

Jax looked to his step father for clarification. Clay admitted that Maureen Ashby was a friend of SAMBEL and McGee's old lady. 'Gemma wouldn't lie about Maureen callin' her. Not with all the history between them!'

Jax was stunned and confused. 'But Jimmy O and Liam O'Neil swore Cameron didn't have a baby with him when he was caught in Belfast! If this woman's tellin' the truth, that doesn't give me a good feelin' about SAMBEL right now!' Jax's eyes telegraphed his thoughts to his step father and president.

Clay nodded slightly, indicating he knew what his VP was thinking and they'd discuss it later. Jax returned the nod while fighting to keep his anger under control.

Gemma didn't appreciate having her son doubt her claim in favor of a charter member's word. Her heart raced n protest. 'Why would she reach out after all these years if it wasn't true? How else would Maureen know my grandson's name? McGee should as shit wouldn't have told her!'

The heart monitor chimed as Gemma's heart rate accelerated. Tara moved forward to turn off the alarm while Clay tried to calm Gemma.

A nurse rushed into the room from the nurse's stations by the heart monitor's alarm. Nurse Kim Sisk glanced at Tara before ordering the men outside.

Clay took a step back before the nurse collided with him. 'I'll be glad to get away from that smouldering look of hers for a bit!' he nodded at Jax to follow him into the hall.

Gemma glared at the men's backs as they walked out of the room, then turned her stare on the medical team. Neither Tara nor Nurse Sisk flinched under her stare, their attention was solely on her medical condition.

She lay her head back against the pillow as Nurse Sisk took a blood pressure reading. Tara examined the read out from the heart monitor, then ordered a medication to be administered via IV to help calm the patient.

"I don't need anything to calm me down!" Gemma snarled.

"This monitor tells me you do!" Tara retorted. "You might be the Queen Bee of the MC, but _this_ is my domain. _I _say you need this medicine. You'll either take it willingly, or I'll immobilize your other arm and have it pumped into you!"

Gemma glared angrily at Tara while Nurse Sisk hurried after the medication. "You wouldn't dare!"

"I _would_ dare, if it saves your life!" Tara replied.

Nurse Sisk returned with a hypodermic in one hand and a pill cup in the other. "Which will it be, Doctor?" she inquired.

"That depends on _her_!" Tara gazed significantly at Gemma.

Gemma glanced at the hypo and the cup, then back at Tara before snarling, "I'll take the God damn pill!"

Nurse Sisk set the hypo down on the bed table and poured a cup of water. She held both cups out to Gemma.

Gemma stared at the cups, then took the pill cup and tossed the medicine into her mouth. She accepted the cup of water and sipped it, making a show of swallowing before handing the cup back to the nurse.

"Satisfied, dear?"

"Open your mouth," Tara instructed.

"Excuse me?"

"Open your mouth. I want to make sure you swallowed that pill," Tara replied. "And hold out your hands, just in case you had any thoughts of palming it!"

Gemma opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue to prove she wasn't holding the pill under her tongue. She held out her hands, palms up, so the doctor could see the pill wasn't on her person. "Satisfied, dear?"

"Extremely. Now relax and let the medicine do its' work!" Tara retorted.

As soon as the medicine hit her bloodstream, Gemma felt the tension lighten in her chest. It was easier for her to breathe. "I need to talk to Clay. There's something he needs to know before he hears it from the wrong person."

Tara gazed thoughtfully at her patient. Gemma had a determined look on her face that warned the physician she'd get up out of bed and drag it to the door to find Clay.

"OK. But I think it's best to limit your visitors to one at time, and short visits except for Clay," Tara replied.

"We'll leave you alone to rest for a bit," Nurse Sisk added, laying a comforting hand on Gemma's. "We'll send your husband back in as soon as possible."

While the medical team worked to calm Gemma, Clay and Jax strode down the hall as far away from the guards as they could get. They didn't speak until they were alone.

Jax wanted to believe his mother, but he found it hard to believe that a brother would've lied to him. He wanted to talk to the Belfast charter, but Clay advised caution, despite McGee being one of the First Nine.

Clay started to sketch a plan for contacting Maureen again when Tara and Nurse Sisk walked around the corner. Nurse Sisk nodded slightly at the two men before continuing on to the nurse's station.

Tara walked on up to the two men and assured them Gemma was fine. She explained that Gemma wanted to talk to Clay, without Jax or her present.

"I'll take Chibs and Opie to Jimmy's tavern. Confront Lucas and see if we can shake him up with the truth."

"Good idea," Clay nodded. "Call Bobby first. Tell him to hold off on wirin' the money to the tracker."

Jax and Tara headed on to the doorway as Clay turned back to Gemma's room. Tara glanced questioningly at Jax. "How soon will you go?"

"As soon as we know for sure that Abel's there," he replied grimly. "Provided we find out that this isn't some bull shit story designed to throw us off track."

* * *

><p>Tig snapped the two - way closed with a frustrated snort. "I fuckin' <em>hate <em>phone tag!" he muttered darkly. "I didn't get this thing just to hear a God damn message!"

"It beats not hearin' anything at all!" Bobby observed as he tapped at the computer keyboard. He used one finger on each hand in what Cat had once described as the HPC style, or Hunt, Peck, and Cuss. The thought brought a slight smile to Tig's otherwise annoyed countenance.

"Ya think?" Tig growled.

"So what did she tell ya, unless it's too personal?"

"It's personal, but I'll tell ya," Tig replied. "She's goin' to her regular doctor about that 'indigo funk' she was in last night."

"That's good, ain't it?" Bobby glanced up at him for a moment. He remembered how difficult it'd been for Tig to share his woman's depression issues with the club before he left for Oregon.

'He kinda felt like he was betrayin' her trust, but he knew we'd keep an eye on her without bein' obvious about it,' Bobby mused. "Like I said before ya left, Cat's a ballsy woman. It would take more than you leavin' town to throw her into a tailspin."

"I know, but stone can be worn down by havin' water constantly drippin' on it," Tig replied, paraphrasing how June had described Cat's emotional state.

"We all noticed that. Guess it was eventually gonna happen. Some wimmen take to this life OK, but it can wear the best of 'em."

"Yeah. I know," Tig replied wearily. "Doc Gallagher wants to check her ribs so she's goin' by the hospital later. Which reminds me I owe Kozik somethin' for hurtin' her!"

"Aw, c'mon, Tig!" Bobby protested. "He prolly kept her from takin' a slug!"

"He also caused her pain she didn't need and added a few more cracked ribs to her injuries!" Tig snarled. "He didn't have to tackle her to the ground for fuck's sake!"

"You just want an excuse to rough him up," Bobby laughed.

"True, dat."

Bobby continued tapping at the computer keys. "At least she's stayin' safe and outta trouble. I wouldn't complain if I were you!"

"Trust me, I'm _not_ complainin'!"

"Sounded like it to me," Bobby murmured.

Tig glared at the club secretary's back. "Where the fuck's Juice, anyway? How long does it take to get his shit together?"

"Do I hear somebody takin' my name in vain?" Juice grinned as he strode into the clubhouse. He had a knapsack strapped to his back. The steroids and other drugs were safely secured inside.

"You ready?" Tig called out to Bobby, who was digging in his pocket for his cell.

"Keep your pants on!" Bobby replied. "What's up, Jax?"

"You wire the money yet?"

"Just finished," Bobby reported.

"Shit! Possible change of plans," Jax shared what Gemma had told him about Abel and the phone call she'd received the night before.

"Shit! What do ya want me to do?"

"Go ahead and tell Tig and Juice. Best they find out now than later, especially if we go to Belfast. Tig'll wanna tell his old lady."

"OK. I'll call Serge, see if he can help us get the money back. I'll try to cancel the wire, but once they go out, retraction's a bitch."

"Tell me about it. Ope and Chibs are goin' with me to see Lucas."

"That should be interestin'!" Bobby observed.

"No shit. Catch you later."

"What's up?" Tig growled. He didn't like what he'd overheard, especially if it meant he had to make an overseas journey so soon after the Oregon trip.

"Turns out the intel on Abel was wrong," Bobby explained. "That call to Gemma came from Maureen Ashby."

"Who's that?" Juice asked.

"McGee's old lady," Tig growled. "Shut up and let the man talk!"

"We might have to go to Belfast, and that takes money we don't have. We're not goin' anywhere 'til I start workin' on gettin' that wired money back!" Bobby added, turning back to the computer.

"I'll be outside," Tig stormed out the door of the clubhouse, slamming it behind him in frustration. Juice winced and sat down in front of the television, looking for something to occupy his time until Bobby was ready to leave.

'Tig's pissed,' Juice mused. 'Somebody's yankin' our chain where Abel's concerned. I've got a really bad feelin' about this.'

* * *

><p>Heather McConnell, manager of St. Thomas' accounting office, glared at her computer screen. 'This cannot be right! That motorcycle medical fund has a major credit on it! How the Hell did that happen?'<p>

She keyed a few instructions into the computer program, calling up all transactions made on the account in the last few hours. She scrolled through the charges and deposits, frowning again at the large deposit that had been wired into the account.

'That didn't come from Ms. Marshall at all! Did someone make a major somewhere? This just can't be right!'

Her telephone rang, and she picked it up while still staring at the screen. "Accounting, Ms. McConnell speaking," she announced somewhat absently.

"This is Evil Twins Productions in Los Angeles. I'm following up on a wire transfer made to your hospital."

'Thank God! Someone's found their error before it became a major nightmare!' Heather breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks for calling. I was just trying to figure this out. I'm sorry there was a mix up."

"Oh, no! There wasn't a mix up. I'm calling to follow up on it, and assure you there was no mistake. I trust it did get applied to the 'Sons of Anarchy Emergency Medical Fund'?"

"Yes, it did," Heather squeaked in surprise. "That's a considerable amount!"

'Not to us!' The girl Friday thought in amusement. "I have a request from my employer, that your office contacts us whenever the fund drops below a certain amount."

While the girl Friday dictated the information, Heather made a note in the file. She password protected the note so that she was the only person who could access the information. She set up an alert that would indicate when the account dropped to the amount the Evil Twins employee indicated. The note contained the contact information for the production company.

"It's all set up, ma'am!" Heather reported. "What do I tell Ms. Marshall? Or do I tell her?"

"By all means, she needs to know about this. It _is_ her fund, after all!" the girl Friday replied. "Your discretion is appreciated, Ms. McConnell! Have a nice day."

Heather sat back in her chair, awed at the actor's gesture. She had no idea he'd visited the hospital twice . during the previous day, much less in the company of Cat Marshall. 'That woman's becoming a local legend! Wonder what she'll do next?'

* * *

><p>Alex strode across the garage lot to the storage rooms, signaling Dog to follow him.<p>

"What's up, Tig?" Dog inquired, falling into step beside the SAA.

"Got a project and need your help," Tig murmured, unlocking the door where he'd stored the Dodge before he'd left for Oregon.

"Whew!" Dog whistled at the sight of the rusted bulk of metal. "That's a project a'right! That intended for Cat?"

"Yeah. I need ya to pull the engine and tranny, I'll work on 'em out after hours. Use the flatbed to take the body to that guy who painted the Yamaha after those girls fucked it up. I like his work. Tell him to call me with updates and shit. Bill the tow to me."

"Will do. Glad to hear Gem's recovering."

"Same here, man This is just between you and me. I don't want everyone gettin' their hands on this."

"Naturally!" Dog grinned. "Cat'll love this when it's ready."

"I know," Tig grinned. He looked over the muscle car, seeing it as it would look when it was restored. Instead of the rusted, weather - beaten hulk, he envisioned the gleaming dark purple paint, black rallye wheels with whitewall tires, and the 'C' symbol with ears and whiskers on the hood and trunk.

"It'll be a beaut. Can see that baby earnin' prizes at area car shows."

"Among other things," Tig murmured. He intended to put a false bottom in the trunk, just in case they needed to use the car for club business. He knew that Cat wouldn't object to putting her 'rum running' experience to use if the club needed to tap into it.

'She and Gem are a lot alike. I think if push ever came to shove, she'd give Gem a run for her money!'

"Tig! C'mon! We're leavin'!" Juice's shout broke into his reverie. He glanced out across the lot, watching Bobby and the intel officer walking to their bikes.

Tig pulled his sunglasses from his cut and settled them over his nose. 'I'll prolly hafta leave the work unfinished to make the Belfast run. But for now, havin' a project like this will help take my mind off shit I can't change.'

"So what are ya waitin' for," Tig growled as he mounted his bike and glared at his brothers. "An engraved invitation? Let's go!" He started his Harley, grinning at the sound of the bike's powerful roar.

Juice and Bobby gazed at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and started their own bikes. Their engines roared in answer to Tig's as the three bikes sailed out of the lot.

* * *

><p>Pete smothered a smile at the sight of Cat's fedora perched low over her forehead. He realized that the hat that she usually wore as a decoration was now a necessity to keep the sunlight from hurting her eyes.<p>

The injury and surgery to her eye had left her more light sensitive than ever. She had to wear clip on sunglasses indoors, and add wraparounds and the fedora in sunlight. The light sensitivity often led to strong headaches by the end of the day.

'I hope this isn't gonna be a permanent problem. I've got enough of a light sensitivity issue without it bein' made worse!' She followed Pete out of the coffeehouse after insisting that she'd walk with him the short distance to his car.

She'd limped half the distance to Pete's Honda and wished she'd accepted his offer to pick her up at the door of the coffeehouse. Her body ached in protest. She was still tired from preparing the orders for shipment. Adding to her misery was that both eyes were watering in the glare of the bright, cloudless sky.

Pete quickly realized she was in discomfort. "Miss Cat, why don't you go back to the coffeehouse and wait?"

"No," she replied through gritted teeth. "I'll make it. Can't show weakness to the public, darlin'."

Pete shook his head and held out his arm, allowing her to lean against him as she slowly made her way to his parked vehicle. He unlocked the door and helped her inside the passenger seat, where she leaned her head back with a sigh of relief.

"It'll get better, Miss Cat. You just can't take on too much at one time!" Pete observed before turning on the ignition.

"I know. But I sure as hell didn't expect to be worn out from so little work!"

"You did a lot today, Miss Cat. If Mr. Tig finds out about it, he'll skin me alive!"

She patted his shoulder sympathetically. "He won't find out. We won't tell him."

Pete grimaced and stared out at the street ahead. 'He _always_ seems to find out," he mused to himself.

"Pete, darlin', y'all ain't responsible for my actions. I'm a grown woman. Hell, I'm nearly old enough to be all y'all's momma! Tig's bark is worse than his bite, anyway!"

"That's not what I've heard," Pete mumbled.

They passed the rest of the drive in silence because Cat fell asleep during the short ride. This time, she didn't protest having Pete drop her off at the entrance. By the time he'd joined her in the waiting room, she was asleep again.

Dr. Pinkerton examined Cat carefully, noting the signs of stress about her mouth and uninjured eye. "Your blood pressure is up just a tad."

"The top number?"

"No, hypertension is determined by the bottom number. Yours usually hovers in the low 80s. It's in the mid 90s. That's enough reason to order the supplement my cousin discussed with you," she explained as she wrote out the prescription.

"Pay very careful attention to the side effects, and call me or Dr. Gallagher if you experience _any_ of them. Understand?"

"Loud and clear, doc. Thanks," Cat affirmed, pocketing the prescription order and donning her tinted eye wear and fedora.

"I'll contact Dr. Smythe about your increased light sensitivity. He should be made aware of it. It might be treatable."

"I hope so."

Cat limped from the doctor's office to find that Pete had pulled the car up to the front door. She slid gratefully into the car without a word and leaned her head against the seat back.

"Are you sure you're going to be all right in there?" Pete inquired worriedly as he stopped the car in front of the hospital's main entrance.

"Sure. I've rested a bit, and if I get tired, there's plenty of people around who can help me. Go on and enjoy the rest of your day," she assured him. He didn't move the car from the drive until she'd limped through the front entrance.

The clerk behind the counter in the physicians' office area handed her a clipboard of financial forms and a questionnaire to fill out. Cat had the claim information from the insurance company with her and quickly filled out the paperwork.

"Please have a seat, Dr. Gallagher will be with you shortly," the clerk stated as she accepted the clipboard of forms.

Cat limped to a corner chair where she could see the door to the office and the outer hallway. 'Alex's caution is definitely rubbing off one me!' she mused.

The lighting in the reception area wasn't overly bright, but the lightning still caused her distress so that she left her sunglasses on. She was in too much pain to read, but the waiting area had a television. To her distaste, it was tuned to a daytime talk show whose theme was to determine the parentage of illegitimate children.

'Beggars can't be choosers,' she sighed, lowering herself gingerly into the chair to wait.

As the talk show emcee intoned the words "You are _not_ the father!" for the fifth time in as many minutes, a nurse appeared at the door leading to the examination area and called Cat's name.

'Thank God! That program was about to make me go nerts!' She limped gratefully to the door the nurse held open.

"How are you feeling today, Ms. Marshall?"

"Sore and tired of feelin' that way!" Cat replied.

"That's normal," the nurse explained, leading her to a vacant exam room. The nurse sensed the patient wasn't in the mood for small talk and quietly took Cat's blood pressure and other vitals, noting them in a chart.

"Dr. Gallagher will be with you shortly," the nurse assured her. "Just relax."

'Easy for you to say,' Cat thought, easing herself onto the exam table after shedding her coat, hat, and her shirt.

The door opened to admit Dr. Gallagher, who had glanced through the chart outside. "I heard from Dr. Pinkerton that you're having some depression issues," he announced as he laid the chart on the counter and gazed at her. "Can't say I'm not surprised."

"Neither am I, doc. That's why I went to see her."

"The supplement should help. Let's take this binder off and see how you're healing."

He helped her unwind the binder and gently ran his hands over her ribs. She hissed when his hand brushed the incision where he'd inserted a tube to re inflate her lung while she'd been admitted.

"Hmm. That's a little bit infected. I know you've done your best to keep it clean. You'll need an antibiotic to fight that."

She wrinkled her nose in protest. "Not _more_ pills!"

He grinned at her reaction. "Nope. We'll give it a thorough cleaning while you're here and put an antibiotic salve on it. Best to use it and keep changing the dressing every day. The infection should clear up in no time."

"Is that why I'm feeling so tired all the time?"

"Part of it," the doctor admitted. "But you were hit pretty hard, Cat, and you're bound to fatigue more quickly. Technically, you should still be in the hospital."

"Yeah, I know. It's just frustrating that simple things like preparing orders for shipping can wear me out!"

Dr. Gallagher checked her other injuries without replying, then wrote a few notes in the chart. He slid his pen into his jacket pocket and closed the chart before replying, "Your wounds are healing, but it's going to be a slow process! Even God took six days to make the Heavens and the Earth!"

"Hmpf!" she snorted. "Far be it for me to think I'm better than Him!"

"That's the spirit!" he cajoled her.

As if summoned by telepathy, the nurse entered the room with an armload of supplies, which she set on the counter. She then reached into a drawer under the table and withdrew several absorbent pads which she placed on the exam table behind Cat.

"Lay down on your back, Ms. Marshall. We'll clean that incision area first," she explained, helping Cat lay back on the table.

"Just put your arm up over your head, Cat," Dr. Gallagher added, sliding his hands into sterile gloves while the nurse prepared the cleaning solution.

Dr. Gallagher gently swabbed the incision with a sterile sponge and the solution. Fortunately, the nurse had used warm water to prepare the solution.

The nurse poured a generous amount of the salve on a tongue depressor and handed it to Dr. Gallagher. He waited while she patted the wound dry, then gently smeared the salve over the reddened skin.

"Yeow!" Cat yelped. "That's cold!"

"Sorry. It doesn't work well if it's too warm," he explained.

The nurse applied a fresh sterile gauze pad to the wound and secured it with tape, then helped Cat sit up and reapplied the binder around her.

"How's that?" she asked.

"Just right," Cat sighed.

Dr. Gallagher handed her a written prescription to fill at the hospital pharmacy. "Your arm is looking better. It's less swollen, so the sling has helped with that. You don't use it all the time, though, do you?"

"Y'all caught me," she admitted. "Like when I'm usin' the computer. I use the left hand to move the mouse, which enables me to keep workin'."

"Try to keep it in the sling as much as possible, including when you're asleep. It'll help. We'll check it again in another three weeks, see how it's mending."

The nurse helped Cat back into her shirt, coat, and the sling. "Can you tell me how Gemma's doing?" Cat inquired anxiously.

"She's stable, and improving," Dr. Gallagher assured her. "With rest and the proper meds, she'll be herself in no time."

"I doubt Stahl will give her the time she needs," Cat observed dryly.

"Stahl is not her attending physician. _I_ am, and it'll be up to me to say when she can be moved from here!"

"I hope so. Any chance I can visit?"

Dr. Gallagher frowned at her. "Are you up to it? I don't want you over doing!"

"I'm capable of two speeds right now," she replied. "Slow and slower. I'll not stay long, if it won't stress her out."

Dr. Gallagher smiled grimly. "It won't stress her out. Clay and Jax are allowed unlimited time with her. Everyone else gets five minutes. I'll call ahead and clear you, but she _is _under guard, and you'll have to be searched before you can enter her room."

"Thanks for the heads up," she replied. "Guess I'll see y'all in a few weeks for a check up."

"Unless that incision gets worse, then I want to see you immediately!"

"Yes, doctor!" she replied.

A nursing aide knocked on the door and backed inside at the doctor's command. He manuvered a wheel chair around in the room and waited expectantly.

"What's this?" Cat inquired.

"Your chauffeur for the remainder of the day," Dr. Gallagher replied. "I requested an aide to wheel you around the hospital, save your energy for more important things."

Cat lowered herself into the wheelchair and smiled affectionately at the doctor. "Thanks. I appreciate the thoughtfulness."

"Where to, ma'am?" the nursing aide asked.

"Um, let's try the office manager for Dr. Smythe, then the accounting office," Cat decided. "We'll play it by ear from there."

* * *

><p>'It's been too long since I've visited Lumpy, much less had him over to the house,' Tig mused guiltily on the ride to his mentor's boxing facility. 'Cat's seen him at the CBA meetin's, but it's not the same thing.'<p>

Tig, along with Juice and Bobby, got a nasty surprise when they turned into the business district where Lumpy's gym was located. Instead of flourishing small businesses, the street was virtually deserted. Empty storefronts with the words 'closed' or 'out of business' were spray painted on various buildings.

The only business operating on the entire block was Lumpy's. It stood out like a tiny tropical island surrounded by a large body of water.

'What the fuck is goin' on around here?' Tig mused, pulling his Dyna in a slow arc in front of the gym and stopping. He slipped the gear into neutral and backed the Harley to the curb. Juice and Bobby followed suit. The ensuing silence after they shut off the bike engines was deafening.

The trio stood in the street, looking around the block in surprise and dismay. 'This has been goin' on for some time from the looks of things. We've been too wrapped up in our own shit to have let it happen,' Bobby thought.

They walked into the front of the gym, relieved to find that Lumpy was as busy as ever. The reception area held glass display cases filled with trophies from men and boys he'd trained. Some of the trophies were proof of Lumpy's experience in the sport, including an Olympic medal.

The trio walked past the glass display cases into the bowels of the gym. Young men and boys were exercising or working out all around the elevated 'squared circle'.

Lumpy stood in front of the boxing ring, holding a punching bag in both hands for a young man he was training. Lumpy barked encouragement to the pugilist intent on honing his skills.

Tig's thoughts wondered back over the many good times he'd had at the gym. He respected the old Jewish boxer, and felt a kinship to Lumpy. He'd learned more about fist fighting from the old man than he had from his stint in the Marines. That knowledge had served him well in many battles.

Tig called Lumpy's name a couple of times as the trio approached. The noise in the gym, along with Lumpy's own hearing deficiencies, made it difficult for the old man to hear him. Tig moved so that he was directly in Lumpy's line of sight and called his name again.

Lumpy looked up with a wide smile of welcome, calling out Tig's name as he clasped the SAA's hand with his own while the other gripped the younger man's arm warmly.

'He looks happy to see me, but he always looks happy to see me,' Tig thought as Lumpy greeted Bobby almost as warmly. 'The old guy looks pretty good, though.'

Bobby returned the greeting then asked what had happened to all the businesses on the block. The answer intrigued the two men as Lumpy disclosed the names of the businesses and how long they'd been shuttered.

'Eh, they tink the owners villingly left. Hev I got news for them!' Lumpy quickly denounced Bobby's comment, describing how an unnamed conglomerate was buying up all the businesses. He left no doubt that he had no intention of selling and how insistent the potential buyers were being.

"Why the Hell didn't you say anything to Cat? Ya know she would've told me!" Tig protested.

"That's vhy, Tig," Lumpy replied. "You and the boys had enough on your plates vithout fighting my battles."

"That's not the only reason you stayed quiet," Bobby insisted. "Who's behind this? Hale?"

"I don't hev any proof, but he began hanging around after the CBA meetings ended. He'd stand and vatch me and Miss Cat clean up, listening to vhatever ve vere discussing at the time."

"He's involved then," Tig growled. "Why else would he hang around?"

Lumpy nodded. "As much as I vanted to tell her, I didn't vant to arouse Hale's suspicions, possibly cause trouble for your girl, Tig. The night ve met about the Deputy Chief's funeral, instead of Jacob Hale hanging around, it was Unser."

"Why didn't you tell Unser you're being shaken down?" Bobby inquired.

"The same reason I vouldn't come to you. Unser was dealing with the loss of his deputy. I'm just a small fish in a big pond, but I'm happy with my lot in life. I won't sell, no matter vhat!"

Tig shook his head. 'Typical Lumpy, stubborn as a mule!"

Juice had concluded his deal with the assistant, and joined the small group. The assistant had filled Juice in about the vacant businesses, and the number of after hours visits Lumpy had received.

"The old man refuses to sell, but the guy keeps upping the offer. He's also getting meaner every time Lump turns him down. Last time he was here, I was still in the back. Lumpy thought he was alone and faced the guy down. Asshat thought he'd try his hand at intimidation, shoved everything on the display counter onto the floor."

"Doesn't sound very intimidating to me," Juice noted.

"Didn't impress Lumpy at all. He just watched the guy walk out the door to his expensive car, then started putting things back where they belonged." The assistant smiled dryly, adding, "I damn near caused old Lump a heart attack when I appeared and helped him clean up."

Juice grinned as he stepped out of the office. "I can imagine his reaction. Keep an eye on him, and let SAMCRO know if anything else happens."

"Will do, Juice."

Lumpy acknowledged Juice as he completed his narrative to the other two men.

Tig grasped Lumpy's shoulder and squeezed it in comfort and consolation. "We'll watch out for ya, Lump," he murmured. "I promise."

Lumpy nodded as he turned to start working with another up and coming fighter, a sad smile touched his face as the SAMCRO men began walking away. He knew Tig meant well, but the club had so many demands that he didn't hold out much hope for SAMCRO to come to his aid like the calvary.

'We've gotta have the old man over to the house again, just as soon as Cat's up to it,' Tig promised himself as he walked to the exit with Juice and Bobby.

"You hear enough?" Bobby inquired to Juice.

"Yeah. This doesn't sound good at all. Lump's assistant told me the details," Juice replied.

"Intimidation like that doesn't sound like Hale's bag," Tig added. "He usually goes for the eminent domain thing."

"After that attempt to take Oswald's land blew up in his face, he might've decided on takin' a different tack. Either way, we'll fill Clay in after we meet with the 'Chicken Man',' Bobby replied.

The trio looked around the desolate business area as they prepared to ride away. They gazed at each other, silently vowing not to let what had happened to the other businesses happen to Lumpy.

* * *

><p>Gemma voiced her concerns to her husband about Jax finding out ancient secrets in the event the club had to go to Belfast. He advised her not to worry about it until they knew for sure that Abel was in Belfast.<p>

"There's been too many lies about the baby; before we go anywhere to get him, I wanna be sure the intel is legit," he rumbled. "That's not the only thing you wanted to talk about."

Clay's heart sank into the pit of his stomach as Gemma explained why she'd decided to return to Charming. It wasn't just to see her grandson for comfort as he'd originally thought. 'She actually made a deal with Stahl and expects the gash to honor it!' He hung his head for a moment, unable to meet Gemma's gaze.

"So the gash knew you were comin' back," he observed. "How could you be sure she'd hold up her end of the bargain and not take ya in as soon as ya hit the town line?"

Gemma shrugged. "I didn't. It was a chance I was willin' to take. The idea of bein' separated from you - from my family - by staying in Canada was too much for me to bear. It was hard enough just being in the next state!"

Clay nodded in understanding. "It wasn't easy for me, either. But it was necessary. I understand why you killed Zobelle's kid. I know you didn't kill Eddie."

"But Stahl has everyone else believing I did it, and now I'm stuck with it," Gemma replied dryly. She reminded him that she would no longer face the death penalty and would get regular visitation.

"Provided Stahl keeps her word. I don't trust the bitch any further than you can throw a pillow right now," Clay rumbled.

"Funny man!" Gemma's face clouded over as she spoke.

"You a'right, baby?"

"Just thinkin' about Daddy. I left without saying goodbye," she replied, her voice trembling with unshed tears.

"Did you call him? See how he's doing?"

Gemma looked around the room and shrugged again. "Afraid there's no phone service in here."

Clay pulled his cell phone from his pocket and handed it to Gemma. "I loaded the telephone number to the nursing home this morning. Thought you might feel better if you called. Didn't get his room number, it's the main office."

Gemma's eyes glistened with tears at her husband's gesture. "Thank you," she whispered huskily. She placed the call and asked for information on her father when the receptionist answered.

"Hold on, Ms. Teller," the receptionist replied to her inquiry. "I'll look up that room number for you. The phone was installed the day before his admission."

After a brief silence, the receptionist provided the room telephone number. "Your father experienced a restless night, and was given a sedative. He's sleeping right now," she added.

"Was he combative?"

"No more so than any other patient in his condition. He kept asking for you and for his wife, and to be taken back home. His shouting disturbed some of the other patients, otherwise he wouldn't have been sedated."

Gemma closed her eyes for a moment. "I see. I'll call him later. Thank you."

"Pop a'right?"

Gemma closed the cell phone and handed it back to Clay. "No. He kept asking for Rose, and for me. He wanted to go home. They had to sedate him, Clay! I caused that!"

Clay glanced concernedly at the heart monitor, fearing her emotions might make her heart jumpy again. The monitor didn't go off, but he stepped close and laid a gentle hand on her head, stroking her hair in a comforting manner.

"It's not your fault, baby. We saw how bad he was getting there at the house. If you'd said goodbye to him, it's likely he wouldn't have remembered later. A good rest, even drug induced, might be a good thing for him."

Gemma smiled moistly at him. "You're probably right. I just hate that he's going to be so alone. And we left all that shit up there, too!"

"What shit?"

"The boxes of things I wanted to keep are all in the basement!"

Clay rolled his eyes. "That shit'll keep."

"Not very long. The church is going to have a sale of a lot of the furnishings and shit. I wanted things a little cleaned up before the buyer takes possession and the estate auction takes place," she countered.

"It'll keep," Clay growled insistently. He dropped his hand to his side and walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Just to get some coffee and stretch my legs," Clay replied. "You gonna be OK for a bit?"

"Sure," she assured him. 'You need some time to come to terms with my decision. I understand. '

He blew a kiss at her and walked out the door.

Gemma relaxed against the pillow and turned on the television. She flipped through the channels, but nothing on daytime television seemed interesting. She finally selected a program, but kept the volume low. 'At least it's something to keep my mind off Daddy.'

* * *

><p>"So what's your name, darlin'?" Cat asked her wheelchair pilot as he guided her through the passageways of the admin section. Her stop at the eye clinic had been successful. She had an appointment for later in the week with the fussy Dr. Smythe.<p>

"Jeff Culver, ma'am," the aide replied.

Cat turned slightly in the chair to favor the aide with 'the one - eyed look'. "Cripes! That makes me feel old! Just call me Cat, please!"

"OK, ma- er, Miss Cat," he replied, wheeling her to the accounting department. She'd asked him to take her there so she could check on the outstanding balances.

"That's a little better," she replied, suppressing a shudder at the aide's use of an old endearment. 'Bill always called me that. It still hurts to hear people use it. That's why I encouraged Chibs' use of 'Lady' in front of my name.'

As opposed to allowing Jeff to wheel her to the front desk as he had when she'd visited the eye clinic, Cat insisted on walking into the accounting office on her own.

"It's kinda small, anyway, Miss Cat. The wheelchair would take up a lot of space," the aid admitted. "I'll be right out here if you need me."

'Whew! Y'all weren't kiddin'! A body would have to walk into the hall to change their mind!' she thought, slipping inside the small office. There was a long counter separating the door from the rest of the office, with one of those swinging doors at one end of it.

On the other side of the counter stood a large copying machine, computer station, and a desk. One woman occupied the office. The name plate on the desk read 'Heather O'Connell'.

Heather looked up at the 'snick' sound of the door closing behind Cat. Her normally business - like demeanor was replaced with an awed expression. "Ms. Marshall! What brings you here?"

'Guess she's been to the coffeehouse a time or two, certainly seems to know me,' Cat's good eyebrow rose into her bangs at the woman's effusive greeting. "Um, just checkin' on the accounts I've got open here. Figure it might be a good time to settle up."

Heather blushed, her face turning a bright crimson. "I thought you knew!"

"Knew what? Don't tell me the bank's out of funds!" Cat exclaimed.

Heather picked up a sheet of paper from her desk and crossed the space between it and the counter. She placed the paper in front of Cat. "This came through earlier today, and I received a telephone call from Evil Twins Productions confirming the delivery a few minutes ago."

'Evil Twins? That's Gerry's production company! What in tarnation?' Cat picked up the paper and held it close to her good eye, skimming through the details. "Oh, no he didn't!"

"It appears he did, whoever this 'he' is, Ms. Marshall. That transfer paid off your remaining balance and Mr. Marstein's account. It's also caught up the McCargo child's account. The remainder is in escrow until it's needed." Heather assured her, bringing over a copy of the paid in full invoices for Cat's records.

"Holy - !" Cat clung to the counter, as the discovery had left her feeling a little light - headed.

"Are you all right, Ms. Marshall?" Heather asked worriedly, reaching for the telephone to call for help if it was needed.

"Just caught me by surprise," she gasped. "Whatever Mrs. Morrow's insurance doesn't pay, just apply the left over to her bill, and of course, keep covering Reese McCargo."

"Of course, Ms. Marshall. I dare say there's going to be quite a bit left over, though."

"So I notice," she observed dryly. "Thanks for the help."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Heather pressed.

"Dr. Gallagher ordered a nurse's aide to take me around," Cat explained. "My 'chariot' awaits just outside." She turned and opened the door, still bemused and surprised by the actor's generous gesture.

Jeff scrambled up from the wheelchair, where he'd been sitting and waiting for her return. He held the chair steady, thought the wheels were locked, concern over her pale features evident in his expression.

"Are you OK? I've seen people come out of that office shell shocked from the bill, but never as pale as you are at the moment!"

Cat's legs were so wobbly she could barely lower herself into the chair with any degree of grace. She merely let gravity take its' course and hoped her butt would meet the seat instead of the floor. She managed to get settled in the wheelchair without incident and sighed in relief.

"I'm fine, Jeff. Just got a surprise. Seems someone has decided to lend a little financial aid to the cause."

"Oh," Jeff felt that he needed to acknowledge his charge's comment, thought he didn't understand the implications of it. "Is that a good thing?"

"Sure is. Can you take me to the children's wing? I'd like to look in on Reese McCargo."

Jeff wheeled her to the elevator and pressed the 'up' button. While they waited for the elevator car, Cat rubbed the bridge of her nose with one hand and gazed again at the transaction record. 'All those zeros! I feel like I won the frackin' lottery! At least it's goin' to good use!'

The elevator doors opened and Clay stepped out, nearly falling over the wheelchair.

"Cat, are you a'right?" he asked anxiously.

"If I had a dime for every time I've been asked that in the last five minutes!" she retorted dryly. "I'm fine, Clay. Dr. Gallagher's takin' precautions so I don't wear myself out."

Clay visibly relaxed. "How's everything healing?"

"Slowly," she assured him. "As long as I don't get tackled to the ground any more by certain persons!"

Clay decided not to respond to that comment. He felt the less said about Kozik, the better. "I need to talk to you and Tig about that later," he replied. "Somethin' you both need to know."

"Why do I suddenly have a bad feelin' about that?" she asked.

"You goin' to see Gemma?" he countered her question with one of his own, tactfully changing the subject.

"Dr. Gallagher said it was OK, so thought I'd peek in. I'll spare her any shock and walk in."

"You'll have to get up to be searched, anyway," Clay advised.

"Figured as much. As long as the guard doesn't get _too _personal in his pat down. I'd hate to wind up in jail for assault on an officer!"

Clay winced and waggled a warning finger in front of her face. "Don't! Just accept it. I don't need Tig flyin' off the handle right now!"

She gazed at Clay's tired face and nodded reluctant agreement. "If y'all came down here to check on Gem's balance, forget it. It's handled."

"Cat! I told you -"

She handed over the papers she'd been clutching in her hand. "Not my doin', my friend! Take a gander at this!"

Clay reviewed the paperwork, his eyebrows rising up his forehead in inquiry. "What the fuck is 'Evil Twins Productions'?"

"Our actor friend's production company," Cat replied. "Guess it's his way of sayin' thanks."

"Mighty generous way of showin' his gratitude if you ask me!"

Cat wrinkled her nose at the president. "I didn't, but you're right. Wanna go with me to see Reese McCargo?"

"That's the kid that was shot at Sack's wake, isn't it?"

She nodded in answer, accepting the paperwork from Clay. She folded the papers in half and stuck them in the inner pocket of her coat.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Clay continued. "Isn't the mother kinda pissed at the club?"

"Probably. But the last time I saw her, she was givin' serious consideration to droppin' the lawsuit against the club."

"She might decide to sue if she catches sight of me," Clay retorted.

"Then again, she might appreciate that you care enough to check on the kiddo yourself," she countered.

"Ya got a point," Clay replied, stepping into the vacated, still waiting elevator car.

"Actually, I got two of 'em," Cat grinned slyly, sticking her chest out for emphasis.

"I didn't see that!" Clay moaned, punching the button for the floor housing the children's ward.

"Neither did I!" Jeff added hastily.

"Spoilsports!" Cat grumbled. "A gal just can't have a minute's fun!"

* * *

><p>Jax was barely able to keep his temper under control during the meeting with Lucas. Not only did Lucas cling to Jimmy O's story, but they found the remainder of the Sons' gun order in the saloon.<p>

The Sons realized that Lucas had no other safe place to store the guns. The house the Hayes had used had been compromised many times over. But seeing the guns piled in a booth of the saloon didn't sit well with Jax, and disturbed Chibs and Opie as well.

'Someone is lying to me. I don't believe McGee's old lady would lie about somethin' like this,' Jax mused as he rode back to the hospital. 'Jimmy's got an agenda, and he's usin' my son as a pawn. He doesn't want us in Belfast. What really bothers me is Liam O'Neil clingin' to Jimmy's tit like he did. A brother wouldn't lie to another brother. I'm getting a really bad feeling about this.'

The closer the trio came to the hospital, the more determined Jax was to get his son back. 'I don't give a shit about Jimmy's agenda, or any intrigue where SAMBEL's concerned! I just want my son back.'

He fingered his right cut pocket, reassured by the presence of the folded sheet of paper under his questing fingers. He'd asked Lucas for the telephone number to Ashby's Provisions, then had checked it's validity with international directory assistance from a nearby payphone. The number had checked out.

"Why do ye want tha' Jackie bhoy?" Chibs asked as they left the saloon.

"I'm gonna have Mom talk to Maureen Ashby, make sure this lead on Abel isn't another lie. Before she calls, I wanna make sure this telephone number is legit."

"You could call it just as easily," Opie mused, handing over his own pocketful of change.

"And expose our hand too early if it's legit," Jax argued. "This way, Jimmy thinks we're playing his game by his rules."

Jax walked directly to the payphone on the corner and dialed the operator, requesting to be connected to international directory assistance. He shoved a seemingly endless number of coins into the payphone slot and was rewarded with the Ireland operator's voice. He asked for Belfast directory assistance, then for a number for Ashby's Provisions. Seconds later, he replaced the receiver, an expression of relief lighting his face.

Chibs glanced ruefully at Opie as Jax made his call. "Luks lyke aire itinerary 'as jest changed."

"We aren't gonna have much time to pull this off, either."

"Aye, Jackie bhoy doesnae 'ave tyme ta git thaire an' back," Chibs agreed. "Ye an' me, hooevva, tha's another story."

"You know Jax is gonna want to go after his son," Opie replied.

"Aye. An' tha minnit 'e's noot aroun' fer tha bond 'earin', evva boddy in tha isle will be on the lukoot fer 'im!"

"We'll cross that bridge if and when we have to," Jax snorted, quietly returning to the pair. "The number checks out. If Maureen can prove to my satisfaction hat Abel's in Belfast, I'll bet there and bring him home."

* * *

><p>Tig, Juice, and Bobby waited on their parked bikes for the 'Chicken Man' to show up. They'd arrived well in time for the meet, but the dealer failed to show on time.<p>

"He's not good at time keeping," Juice muttered nervously. He glanced at Tig, whose sunglasses hid his angry glare at being kept waiting.

"I don't like it," Tig growled. "Ya set up a meet for a certain time only to have the guy make ya wait! It smells bad to me."

"Ah, you're just bein' overly cautious, Tig!" Juice protested, his face lighting up at the sight of a beat up van approaching them. "See? There he is now!"

The van's tires screeched as it turned the corner. Instead of pulling to a stop next to the bikes, the van continued down the street.

"And there he goes!" Bobby grimaced.

Juice shrugged his shoulders as the van came to a stop several yards away from the bikes. He grinned reassuringly at his brothers and refused their back up, citing the 'Chicken Man's' own paranoia around people he didn't know.

Tig and Bobby exchanged dubious glances, but agreed to wait at their bikes for Juice to return with the money for the drugs. They watched Juice saunter to the passenger side of the van to talk to the dealer.

"Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Tig?"

"Prolly. Maybe we shouldn't let Juice handle this alone."

"What the Hell is he doin'?" Bobby pointed at the van, where Juice was opening the door and climbing into the front seat.

"Gettin' inside the van for the hand off. Don't like it, but better than doin' it in broad daylight," Tig replied.

"I dunno, Tig. I've got a bad feelin' about this," Bobby replied warily.

"So do I," Tig couldn't see Juice's profile in the van's side view mirror.

The van began to move as if it were caught in the throes of a minor earthquake. Tig and Bobby ran to the van, certain that Juice was in hot water.

The back doors of the van burst open as someone shoved Juice out of it. He fell to the ground as the van roared away. Juice landed on his back, knocked nearly breathless from the fall. His face was bloody from a number of cuts.

Hector Salazar held the back door of the van open enough so that Tig and Bobby could see him. He laughed and flipped the bird at Tig, who glared menacingly at him as he reached behind his back for his gun. The van screeched around a corner before Tig could get the gun into firing position.

"Shit!" He shoved the gun back into its' holster and turned back to the spot where Juice had fallen. He was sitting up, leaning against Bobby's chest.

"Salazar and two of his men were waiting in the back of the van. I didn't see 'em until it was too late," Juice gasped, wincing as Tig helped him to his feet.

"Looks like your friend was workin' with 'em," Tig growled.

"He said he owed 'em big time," Juice admitted. "He took the drugs and the money we got for the 'roids."

"Shit!" Bobby fumed. "We needed that money to get to Abel!"

"That's not the only thing they got," Tig observed.

"Salazar took my cut, said it was to show that his bullshit MC has reach after all," Juice moaned, limping back to the bikes. He felt the loss of his cut almost as much as he felt bad about losing the drugs and the money.

"Clay's not gonna be happy about any of this," Tig murmured.

"No shit, Sherlock!" Bobby roared.

"Don't fight, guys. One fight is enough. It's my fault for trusting 'Chicken Man'," Juice interjected.

"I accept that," Tig replied, mounting his Dyna and securing his helmet.

"Well I don't!" Bobby hissed. "It's on all three of us. We should've gone with him."

"Juice is over 21, he should've known better than to get into a strange vehicle without checkin' inside first!" Tig retorted, mounting his bike and starting it, allowing its' roar to He put the bike in gear and pulled away, not knowing or caring if the other two were ready to roll behind him.

* * *

><p>Gerry grinned with anticipation as he submitted his on - line payment for his purchase and entered the shipping address for the item. 'Lady Cat shuld be verra playsed ta git tha'! 'Tis only fittin'. She gave oop 'er own fer the wee bairn's playshure!'<p>

He'd paid extra for overnight shipping, so the item would arrive at her home the next day. The added expense didn't bother him one bit. 'It's aboot tyme sumun shows 'er a wee bit o' appreciaythun fer oncet!'

He'd also requested gift wrapping and a card to be included with the package. Though it wouldn't be handwritten, Gerry had a feeling that the recipient would treasure the card as if he'd written it for her in his own hand.

"It wouldnae surprise me ifn she doesnae stick tha card wi' tha package an' playce it sumwhere special!" he smiled to himself, shutting off the computer and gazing across the hotel suite to make sure he'd not left any personal effects unpacked.

The hired driver would take his bags back to Los Angeles for him, and follow the panhead. He'd decided not to have the bike shipped, but to ride it back to his West Coast home. 'Opie wuz ryte. Tha' booty isnae mayde ta be packed away. She's meant ta be ridden. Tha' ryde hoome will be fun!"

He picked up his helmet and gloves in one hand, and a bag in the other. The driver carried his other bag. He didn't have to check out at the desk thanks to the concierge service. All he had to do was leave the key card on the desk in the room and he was free to go.

Mrs. McCargo couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Clay Murrow step out of the elevator onto the children's floor. 'I wondered when or if he'd make a 'token appearance'!'

Her surprise at seeing SAMCRO's president on her son's floor turned into concern at the sight of Cat Marshall sitting in a wheelchair piloted by a nursing aide. 'I hope she's not been hurt again!'

She kept her expression calm as the pair moved toward her. Clay stepped behind Cat and the nursing aide piloting the wheelchair as they stopped in front of the woman.

"Don't worry, Mrs. McCargo, this is simply my doctor bein' cautious," Cat assured her with a smile. "Dr. Gallagher says I'm mendin', and doesn't want me over doin'."

"I'm glad to hear that," she replied warmly before turning her gaze to Clay. The warmth dropped a few degrees as she stared at the club president.

Clay didn't flinch from her icy scrutiny. "Cat tells me that Reese is gettin' better," he rumbled softly. "I'm glad to hear that."

Mrs. McCargo stared at him for a few moments. 'This man has been through the wringer, but he seems to be genuine about Reese.' She nodded slightly at him. "Thank you. I heard your wife was brought in last night, but that she's improving. Seems like an awful lot's been placed on your shoulders."

Clay was surprised by the woman's generous viewpoint, considering the circumstances that caused her son's injuries. He remembered she'd been more grudging in her empathy over Abel's kidnapping the night of the drive - by. "Thank you, ma'am," he replied. "It wasn't a heart attack, just arrythmia."

"That can be serious enough," she noted, then turned her attention back to Cat and added, "Reese hasn't come down from meeting Mr. Butler yesterday. I'm not sure which he treasures more, the feline trio or the King Leonidas doll."

"As long as he's happy, and that he continues to improve," Cat stated, shifting uncomfortably in the chair from the woman's praise.

"Well, his color is much better, and he doesn't sleep as much. The doctor let him sit in a chair for a half hour today!"

Cat's eye lit with joy at the news. "That's wonderful progress!"

"Tired the little trooper out. He was pretty happy to crawl back into bed. He also got a call from his daddy last night. That really perked him up," Mrs. McCargo added.

"Is he asleep now?"

"I'm afraid so. If you want to peek in on him, it's OK," she offered.

Cat shook her head. "No, I don't wanna disturb him. I know how hard it can be to rest in a hospital!"

Mrs. McCargo grinned conspiratorially. "They wake you up to give you a sleeping pill!"

"How well I know!" Cat laughed.

"Mr. Morrow, you've probably been wondering if I still hold the club at fault for Reese's injuries," Mrs. McCargo stated to Clay. "I had gone as far as consulting a lawyer to file a suit against the club."

Clay stiffened slightly. Cat noticed it and was instantly wary of his reaction. Mrs. McCargo wasn't as observant as she continued, "I've decided not to go forward with a suit against the Sons. You were also victims. I've instructed the lawyer to look into holding that club from Lodi accountable."

Clay visibly relaxed. "I appreciate that, Mrs. McCargo, thought I doubt the Calavarez' pockets are very deep."

'Clay, are y'all nerts?' Cat moaned inwardly. 'Y'all have just given her a damn good reason to sue the pants off your ass!'

Mrs. McCargo smiled grimly. "If all I wanted was money, Mr. Morrow, I wouldn't have changed my mind about suing SAMCRO."

Clay realized from both Cat's and Mrs. McCargo's expressions that he'd just opened his mouth and inserted his foot knee deep. "I didn't mean -"

"It was_ never _about money," she interjected. "Yes, Reese is in a great deal of pain and has a long road to recovery. His injuries aren't going to alter him for life. Suing that Lodi club is a matter of principle. That club needs to be held accountable for what they did, no matter _what_ the reason for it."

Clay couldn't find a suitable reply to give her. All he could do was hold out his hand to the worried mother.

Mrs. McCargo stared at his huge hand for a moment, then grasped his hand with her cool one.

"One thing I'll say about SAMCRO, you might be criminals, but you always protect the innocents. Can't say that about other gangs."

"You're a very good and fierce mom, Mrs. McCargo," Clay announced. "May I visit Reese when he's feelin' a little better?"

She nodded assent. "I think he'd like that. Just as long as you don't recruit him!"

Clay held up a hand in the Boy Scout salute. "On my honor, ma'am. We don't recruit anyone who isn't legal drivin' age!"

She smiled wryly at the club president. "Then I've got a few years of peace ahead of me. That boy loves motorcycles, and thinks those monsters you ride are - what do kids call it these days?"

"'Da bomb'?" Cat supplied.

"That's it! He thinks they're 'da bomb'. I think it's a compliment."

"By the way, Mrs. McCargo, I stopped in at the accounting office. Reese's account is paid up for the moment," Cat added, tactfully changing the subject. "I have the invoice for you if you need it for your records."

Mrs. McCargo waved it away. "I'm not worried about that right now. I'll ask the hospital to send a copy to me by mail. You need it for your own records."

Cat nodded and returned the invoice to her pocket. "You know how to contact me if y'all need anything, then. And take care of yourself, Mrs. McCargo."

"I will. Thank _you_, Lady Cat."

Clay motioned for the nursing aide to move aside and grasped the handles of the wheelchair. He turned it towards the elevators and pushed it away from Mrs. McCargo.

"Yeah, thank you, Cat," Clay murmured just loud enough for her to hear once they were out of Mrs. McCargo's hearing range.

"What the Hell for?" she growled, though she had an idea what Clay was talking about.

"Whatever you did to change her mind about suin' the club. I dunno that we could take that kind of hit."

Cat shrugged. "I didn't do a frackin' thing, Clay!"

"Uh, huh," Clay snorted.

"All I did was explain to her that she was barkin' up the wrong tree by suin' the pants off all y'all and if she wanted to hold the right person accountable, she needed to go after the Calavarez. Guess she listened to me after all."

"It prolly helps that you're footin' the bill for his care," Clay rumbled.

"I'm not footin' the bill, the emergency fund is. I just administer the damn fool thing!" she protested.

"You're doin' a damn good job. The fund's been takin' a hit lately, especially after that fuck up in Oregon."

"The fund's in the black, Clay. Donations to the fund are still comin' in," she replied somewhat evasively.

"From the wake? I don't see how!" Clay growled. "All the charters have already sent in their donations!"

"The charters aren't the only source, Clay. Let's leave it at that," she murmured, her good hand clutching the arm rest of the wheelchair.

Clay motioned for Jeff to stop and wait. He pushed the chair a little further, then stopped and stepped in front of it, squatting down so that his face was level with hers.

"Don't tell me you're dippin' into your savin's, Cat! I won't have it!"

"Then I won't tell y'all that!" she retorted. "Cause that's not the source! Shit! Can't a body do a good deed in this town without it gettin' blown outta proportion?"

Clay glared intently at her, trying to figure out what she meant. "I don't get - wait a minute!" There was only one other person with deep pockets who knew about the fund. "Are ya tellin' me - "

"I'm not_ tellin_' y'all a damn thing!" she interjected hotly. "It appears that your powers of deductive reasoning figured it out. The man wanted to keep it quiet and I intend it stay that way!"

Clay scrubbed his face with one hand. "I'll be damned!"

"All y'all will be worse than that if ya don't find a different subject to talk about!" she advised him warningly.

"OK. I get the message," Clay stood up and signaled to Jeff to rejoin them. "C'mon, Gemma lets not keep Gemma waitin' any longer."

The elevator doors opened, Clay pushed her inside and maneuvered the chair around to face the doors. The aide pressed the button for the jail ward.

"How'd you get her to accept help from the fund?" Clay asked, referring to the injured boy's mother.

"It wasn't easy," Cat admitted, grateful that Clay had found a better subject to discuss. "She was suspicious of my motives; thought I'd expect her not to sue the club in return. It helped that I filled out the financial responsibility forms before she got here with Reese."

Clay shook his head behind Cat's back. 'I'm damn glad she's on our side!' He cleared his throat and replied, "Good thinkin'. Guess I'd better warn ya that Gemma knows about Abel. She's prolly gonna light into ya for keepin' it from her."

Cat squared her shoulders as if mentally preparing for battle. "Appreciate the heads up, Clay, but if y'all are tellin' me this expectin' me to lay down and allow her to rake me over the coals, y'all might as well take me to June's office!"

Clay smirked at her. "Claws in, Cat! You two are gonna have to face each other sometime about this, might as well be now and get it over with."

She shifted in the chair to issue the one - eyed look at Clay. "Are y'all _that _desperate for somethin' to entertain you?"

Clay shrugged. "You'll soon find out."

The elevator doors opened onto the floor housing the jail ward. Clay pointed to the waiting room. "Ya might as well wait there, kid. Take a load off your feet. I'll take Cat in to visit Gemma."

Jeff scurried for the relative safety of the lounge. Clay grinned sardonically at the aide's rapid retreat as he wheeled Cat through the double doors leading to the jail ward.

The CPD officer recognized them and waved cordially at Cat. She nodded at the Sanwa deputy guarding Pozo's door and murmured to Clay, "Don't tell me they put Gemma in the room next to that fucktard!"

"OK, I won't tell ya," Clay agreed, reaching down to set the brakes on the wheelchair. "I suppose ya wanna walk into Gem's room on your own two feet."

"More like limp and shuffle, but y'all got the right idea," she replied dryly.

Clay shook his head over the vagarities of feminine behavior. "Cat Marshall is here to visit my wife," he informed the agent.

"Please tell her to remove her hat and coat," the Fed addressed Clay.

Cat's eyebrow furled at the agent's remark. "Hey, dude! It was my eye that was injured, not my brain! If y'all want me to do somethin', all y'all have to do is ask." She poked the Fed in the chest with her forefinger as she uttered each word for emphasis.

The agent stared down at her in surprise. 'She actually_ poked_ me! And it hurt!' He attempted to stare her down, but she returned his stare with an angry one of her own, her uninjured hand resting on her hip.

The stare down contest lasted only a few seconds. The Fed was the first to back down. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Would you please remove your hat and coat?"

Cat smirked as Clay assisted her with the coat. She handed her fedora to him, then spread her arms out so the agent could pat her down. He didn't need to be reminded to watch where he put his hands. He quickly patted her down then stepped aside so she could enter the room.

Clay grinned as he helped her put the coat back over her shoulders and handed her the fedora. "Now _that_ was entertainin'!"

"As they say, 'y'all ain't seen nothin' yet'!" Cat growled. She glared at the Fed and added, "Better have a fire extinguisher handy; the sparks are about to fly!"

The agent gazed inquiringly at Clay.

"It's a joke, son," he rumbled, holding the door open to allow Cat to enter ahead of him.

"Maybe to you," she muttered darkly and slipped inside the room.

"Jesus Christ!" Gemma yelped at the sight of Cat's bandages and bruises.

"Not hardly. Just 'lil ole me," she replied flippantly.

"You look like I feel," Gemma quipped dryly.

"That bad, eh?" Cat limped to the chair near the bed and gingerly lowered herself into it. Clay leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the bed, arms crossed over his chest.

"I've seen worse. How ya feelin', darlin'?"

"Probably the same way y'all feel, like you've been turned inside out and back again," Cat admitted.

"Thanks for what you did for my boys that night," Gemma announced simply.

Cat nodded her head, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She didn't have to wait long.

"As for you not tellin' me about my grandson -"

"I did it because the needs of the one outweighed the needs of the many," Cat interjected. "Why are y'all gettin' all bent outta shape over a betrayal that didn't happen?"

Gemma's eyes widened in surprise at Cat's response. Not many of the women in the club had the guts to talk back to her. "What the fuck do ya mean, it didn't happen? All of you - including my husband and son - kept the news from me! If that's not a betrayal, I don't know what is!"

"Then I'll bring y'all a dictionary next visit so you can look it up!" Cat hissed.

"Don't be a smart ass," Gemma warned her.

Cat snuck a look at the heart monitor to make sure she wasn't upsetting Gemma. Clay didn't seem alarmed, so she shrugged and smiled grimly. "I'm not bein' a smart ass. Just bein' honest."

"Ha!"

"Damn it to Hell, Gemma! The world doesn't revolve around y'all, much as ya might think it does!" Cat spat, her good eye flashing indignantly. "What in Hell could y'all have done that night if we'd told you Abel was missin'?"

"Come back home," Gemma retorted.

"And get picked up by Stahl as soon as y'all crossed the town limits! D'oh!" Cat smacked the side of her head with the palm of her good hand. She winced and wished she hadn't. Her head was still tender from the wreck. "Wait a minute, that wound up happenin' last night! All we did was delay the inevitable!"

Gemma glared at the sneering tone in Cat's voice. "Ya just _**had**_ to go there, didn't ya?" She lifted the hand that was cuffed to the bed rail in emphasis.

"Yeah, I did," Cat admitted, adding in a gentler tone, "Gemma, the guys would've been hit a Hell of a lot harder that night if y'all had come back and gotten caught. Stahl came to the house lookin' for y'all. She wanted to search the joint, I told her to come back with a warrant. Her retaliation was to cancel the Amber Alert."

Gemma's eyes flashed angrily. "That bitch! What did she wanna search for?"

"You," Cat replied. "I probably could've let her in and let her make a fool of herself, but her high handed attitude pissed me off. I'll take your righteous wrath for causin' the alert to be canceled, but not for savin' the guys a lot more worry!"

Before Clay could draw breath to chastise her for blaming herself for the canceled alert again, Gemma replied, "I can't be mad at ya for that. I'd have done the same damn thing."

Cat raised her good hand to rest on Gemma's arm. "Thanks for understandin', Gemma. I'm sorry y'all had to go through all this, on top of the stress of puttin' your dad in the nursin' home. I've gone through somethin' similar. It ain't easy, even when it's the right thing."

Gemma's eyes watered at the reminder of her father. "They had to sedate him last night. I left without saying good bye to him."

"Honey, he wouldn't have remembered you sayin' goodbye five minutes after you left. That's the nature of that particular beast," Cat replied softly. "What matters is that you were there for him when he needed you."

"I won't ever get to see him again, y'know," Gemma noted forlornly.

"Probably not in this life," Cat agreed. "You'll get phone privileges, and you can write him letters. It's little consolation, but it's better than the alternative. If y'all had gone on to Canada, you wouldn't have been able to reach out at all."

Gemma sniffled, much like a child recovering from a good cry. "I suppose you're right, Kitten. He _can_ still read, and I do have his room phone number."

"And it won't be too long before the guys go to Canada and bring Abel back," Cat reminded her.

Gemma glanced over the businesswoman's head to Clay. Her eyes telegraphed the question 'She doesn't know?'

Clay nodded slightly in affirmation.

Cat noticed Gemma's expression but couldn't read the unspoken question in her eyes. She knew there was some kind of communication going on between the couple. "OK, spill. What's goin' on?"

"Tig'll fill ya in later. It's his right," Clay intoned in a 'don't argue with me' tone of voice.

She gripped the arms of the chair to steady herself as she stood up. "Listen, girlfriend, I'm gonna get outta your hair. Just wanted to drop by and let y'all know I was still alive, if not kickin' ass."

"I'm glad ya stopped in, Cat. Thanks for lettin' Tig come up to guard me. Ya could've fought it."

"And I probably would've lost," she replied with a smirk. "To paraphrase Coach Knight, 'when it's inevitable, it's best to let it happen'."

Cat turned and limped from Gemma's bedside, Clay following behind her. "I'll be right back, baby. Just gonna turn Cat over to her chauffeur."

"Good. You can hold the mirror for me while I do my beauty treatment!" she announced.

Clay sighed and closed the door behind him. Cat was already sitting in the wheelchair, her face as white as the sheet on Gemma's bed.

"You a'right?" Clay asked concernedly.

"Yeah. Your wife's a formidable presence. Took a little of the wind outta my sails."

'She's not the only formidable female around here!' Clay mused, wheeling her down the hall to the lounge.

Jeff Culver took one look at Cat's pale features and leapt to his feet. "Are you alright, Miss Cat?"

"Just a little worn out."

"She could probably do with a bite to eat, knowin' her," Clay replied. "Take her to the cafeteria, make sure she eats somethin'."

"I'll do that," Jeff agreed, adding before Cat could protest, "It's a little past my lunch hour, anyway. I could do with company."

"How can I resist an invitation like that?" Cat grinned. "We can drop off my 'scripts on the way."

Clay waited with them until the elevator arrived. He wasn't in any hurry to take part in Gemma's beauty treatment. He was concerned over Cat's overall weakness. 'She _would_ insist on walkin' into Gemma's room under her own power! I'll never understand women!'

He laid a gentle hand on Cat's shoulder just as the elevator doors opened. "You be sure to eat somethin', Cat. Tig would be in an uproar if he saw ya like this."

"Been there, done that a few times already. The last thing I wanna do is give him a reason to launch into caveman mode!" Cat grinned evilly.

* * *

><p>Keith McGee felt his stomach turn to ice in response to Trinity's innocent inquiry about her mother and Charming. His heart hurt further as Trinity described the rude young male who'd demanded Mo call back as soon as possible. He knew she was describing JT's eldest son, Jackson. 'SAMCRO reachin' oot ta Mo means only un thin', tha' they know tha wee bairn's in Belfast!'<p>

To his credit, his face didn't betray his feelings. His voice was calm as he informed the girl he loved as if she were his own daughter that the call was from the mother charter. He accepted the paper she gave him with the telephone number written on it with steady hands, kissed Trinity reassuringly on the forehead and reminded her to lock up after him.

He didn't start shaking until he saw safely in Ashby Alley, away from the store windows and out of sight of his brothers. The paper fluttered in his shaking hands as he gazed at the number.

'Usin' a throwaway, noot un o' thair own phones. Maykes a lotta sense. This isnae gud. Ifn SAMCRO is reachin' oot, it means they know tha bairn is here. But why reach oot ta Mo o' all people?'

He glanced up at the dark apartment above his old lady's store. His old lady had to walk a very precarious line between her allegiance to SAMBEL and to the RIRA. One step in the wrong direction could put her in danger from either side. 'Ah, Mo! Playse let Fr. Kellan be tha un tha' called tha muther charter aboot tha kid!'

He shook his head wearily. All he wanted to do was live long enough to give up the gavel and retire with whatever honor he still possessed. He wanted to live out the rest of his life with Mo and Trinity and to do so comfortably. Aligning with Jimmy O made that more of a fact than a dream

'Clay wouldnae unnerstand ifn 'e found oot tha truth. 'E'd see it as a betrayal. SAMCRO cannae coom 'ere lukin' fer tha bairn, tha's all thair is ta it!'

He gazed again from the small piece of paper to the darkened apartment. He knew Jimmy should be informed of this newest development, but he decided to wait. 'Ah owe it ta Mo ta ashk 'er furst. Gie 'er a chance ta tell 'er syde. Ifn Kellan 'as involved 'er, Ah'll hae no choyce boot ta tell Jimmy. Mebbe Kellan rayched oot an' told SAMCRO ta call Mo so it wouldnae appear as if tha RIRA wuz involved. She'll be back soon frum tha bank. Ah'll know fer shure then.'

It was a small sliver of hope, but McGee clung to it as if it were a life preserver flung to a drowning man.

* * *

><p>Stahl craftily sowed the first seeds of doubt in Gemma's mind about the deal when she checked on the prisoner the next morning. She'd managed to get Clay and Jax to leave them alone so she could talk openly with Gemma. As anticipated, Gemma's emotions got the better of her and her ailing heart reacted accordingly.<p>

Nurse Sisk rushed into the room as the alarm sounded. Gemma was gasping for breath and glaring hatefully at the fed. The nurse took one look at the monitor and ordered the Fed out of the room.

Stahl's face assumed a look of compassionate concern as she reached out consolingly to Gemma, murmuring acknowledgment of the nurse's order. Stahl then let her hand fall to her side as she trudged to the door.

The mask of compassionate concern evaporated the moment the door to Gemma's hospital room closed behind her. A smile of satisfaction settled over her face over her success at bringing her nemesis down a few pegs.

'Excellent!' Stahl crowed inwardly, striding out the double doors and on into the lounge where she could safely use her cell phone. 'The seeds have been sown, now to add a little 'miracle gro' to the compound!'

She selected Chaz Fox's office number, tapping her fingers against the wall as she waited for him to answer.

Chaz glanced at the caller ID on his office phone and winced. He'd been expecting Stahl to call him ever since he'd learned of Gemma Morrow's arrest the night before. He momentarily toyed with the idea of letting the voice mail take the call. He sighed in resignation and lifted the receiver.

"What is it now, Stahl?"

"Good mornin' to you, too!" she replied cheerfully.

"It was a good morning," Chaz lamented. "What do you want, Stahl? I've got tons of work on my desk."

"Of course you do," the agent replied soothingly. "I've planted doubt in Gemma's mind that you'll carry out our end of the deal."

"Why would you do something like that?" Chaz blurted in surprise.

"Why do you think?" Stahl retorted. "Jesus, Chaz! Use your brain!"

"You're going to use Gemma as a means to get information on SAMCRO," Chaz replied. "It figures. You'll use any and all underhanded tactics to get what you want."

"But we both want the same thing, Chaz. We want to get SAMCRO behind bars, where they belong. We want to put a major dint in the Real IRA's gun smuggling here in the States!"

"You really believe that!" Chaz mused. "The ends don't always justify the means. Don't forget what happened when you messed with the Winston family!"

"Why does everybody keep rubbing my face in that? It was one mistake!"

"You might have yourself convinced of that, but you've had more than your fair share of mistaken turns."

"Name one!" she challenged.

"I can name several. The Delaney deal, which got you some dental work and a nose job; then the Telford thing, which fizzled out like day old opened cola, and then your interference with the FBI's deal with Ethan Zobelle, which got you demoted," Chaz gleefully reminded her. "Your earned run average is getting pretty low."

"Well, that's about to change," Stahl smirked. "All you have to do is back me up when SAMCRO's lawyers call."

"And why would they be calling me?" Chaz inquired dryly.

"Because I told Gemma that you're seriously considering revoking the deal."

"But that's not happening!" Chaz protested.

"Gemma and Clay don't know that. If Clay reaches out to the club's lawyers, it stands to reason either Rossen or Lowen will check out the story with you."

"Stahl, you've drunk too much of the poisoned purple kool - aid this time!" Chaz observed with a snort. "Those two know damn good and well I have no reason to revoke the deal you bartered."

"Yes, you do," Stahl replied patiently. "After all, you have no proof that Gemma ever intended to turn herself in this morning. She didn't turn herself in, therefore, the deal died."

"Technically, she collapsed and you arrested her at the hospital hours before she was scheduled to turn herself in!" Chaz countered triumphantly. "Even a first year law student would find that loophole!"

"The deal was that Gemma was to turn herself in this morning. It's not your fault Gemma's heart was in it and had other plans," Stahl remarked.

Chaz winced at the agent's heartless quip. "That was a low blow, Stahl."

"Whatever," she shrugged.

"Why are you doing this? What do you hope to gain?"

"I've held out the possibility that you'll reconsider the deal if Gemma persuades Dr. Knowles to be more forthcoming about Cameron Hayes," Stahl explained.

"Dr. Knowles won't rat on the club any more than Gemma would," Chaz retorted.

"That's why I lit the fire under Gemma's ass," Stahl explained.

"Lowen and Rossen are too smart to fall this. Gemma did call you and brokered the deal," Chaz insisted.

Gemma never called me direct. All her contacts were through the tip line. I blocked the number when I called her back. The pre pay won't show where she was calling from. For all we know, she could've been in Charming all along!"

"Doesn't prove anything. Rossen and Lowen will still point out that Gemma reached out to you. You can't erase that!"

Stahl frowned intently. "It's her word against mine that she agreed to turn herself in. Who is the US Attorney's office going to believe? A woman with a criminal record wanted in the murder of two people, or a Federal agent in good standing?"

'Frankly, my money's on Gemma Morrow at the moment!' Chaz thought dryly. "I wouldn't rely on your record at the moment, Stahl," he replied warningly. "Besides, this whole thing reeks worse than day old garbage. I don't like it!"

"Don't be such a bleeding heart, Chaz. We'll get what we want in the long run," she scoffed. "It'll make up for that beating the FBI gave us over Zobelle."

"Us? Have you got a mouse in your pocket? _I_ sure as Hell didn't have any involvement in the Zobelle affair!"

Stahl snorted in derision. "_I'm_ the one taking the risk, Fox. All you have to do is have my back in this. If Gemma believes the death penalty is looming in her future, she's bound to crack. She might be loyal to the club, but she won't die for them!"

Chaz thought over Stahl's comments for a few moments. It was obvious that Stahl enjoyed playing Gemma like a virtuoso handled a Stradivarius. Just as she enjoyed stringing him along. He had no choice but to go along with her.

"OK. You win. As usual."

"Good boy. I knew you'd see things my way," Stahl smirked. "I'll be dropping in to give Gemma the good news later. She'll probably have her husband and son with her. That'll make the moment doubly sweet!" she added before terminating the call.

'If she wasn't cuffed to that bed, I doubt you'd be so cocky!' Chaz thought angrily, cradling the receiver. He sat with his head in his hands for a few minutes, then called his secretary into the office.

* * *

><p>Tig stopped just inside the hospital's main entry doors, causing Bobby and Juice to nearly plow into him. They stumbled to one side, muttering darkly about his idiosyncrasies. Then they spotted what had caused him to halt in their path.<p>

All thoughts of telling Clay about the Chicken Man's double cross vanished from Tig's mind. His focus was fixed on his lady sitting in a wheelchair and being piloted down the main corridor by a nurses' aide. Dread spread through him like wildfire.

"She's gotta be a'right, Tig," Bobby murmured consolingly. "She's still wearin' her street clothes and she's sittin' up."

Tig stared at the unmistakable black hat gliding along the hallway and nodded. "I sure as Hell hope so!' He motioned for Bobby and Juice to wait and strode forward to stand directly in the wheelchair's path.

Jeff tried to maneuver around the tall, intimidating biker. Tig was faster and blocked the wheelchair's movement as effectively as a rock slide landing in the middle of the highway. "What the fuck is goin' on?" he growled.

Cat put her hand up to signal reassuringly to Jeff. She glanced up at Alex and smiled reassuringly. "Relax, love. This is Dr. Gallagher's idea. He's just takin' precautions so I don't overdo."

Alex inwardly relaxed, though he gave no outward sign of relief. "You a'right?" he growled.

"Jesus! If I had a dollar for every time that's been asked of me today!" Cat snorted with laughter. "I'm fine, love. Doc says I'm mendin'. Jeff -" she motioned to the aide standing behind her "-is joinin' me for lunch."

He dropped into a crouch so he could look directly into her eye. His hands rested on her knees, giving the appearance that he was leaning against her for support. His hands were splayed out so that his thumbs slid under her knees and moved in a caressing manner. 'Damn clothes! Always in the way!' His frown intensified, though his eyes twinkled at her.

"Good idea," he rumbled. "Ya look a bit pale to me. Did ya see Gem?"

"Why do y'all think I'm pale, love?" she grinned.

"I hope you two were civil."

"Of course we did!" she replied innocently. "Surely y'all don't think two grown adult women can't discuss issues without throwin' punches!"

"Any other adult women, yes," Alex retorted, "and don't call me 'Shirley!' When it comes to you and Gem bein' at odds, I'm surprised fireworks didn't go off!"

"Well, the sprinkler system stayed off, but a few cherry bombs did get lit," she admitted. "Gem's not happy that we kept her in the dark. I got her to see why discretion was the better part of valor."

Her good hand rested on top of his as she spoke. She allowed her thumb to move back and forth over the back of his hand, tracing the tendons and veins. She felt his hands shake slightly against her legs and wanted badly to soothe away his concern for her.

"Hey, Lady Cat! I told Tig that you're not checkin' back in!" Bobby called in greeting as he and Juice walked up to them.

"Maybe she should," Tig growled, glaring at her. He didn't like the signs of strain on her pale face. "At least she'd get some rest!"

"Hmpf! Y'all seem to forget a hospital is the_ last_ place a body gets rest!" she retorted lightly. She turned her gaze on Bobby and Juice and nearly gasped at the sight of Juice's cut and bloody face.

"Darlin', what in the Hell happened to y'all? Did you lay the bike down?"

Juice stood behind Tig, his downcast eyes unable to meet hers. "It's nothin'"

"If that's nothin', I'd hate to see the other guy!" she scoffed.

Tig's fingers pressed warningly into her flesh to warn her not to pursue the subject. "I'll explain it later, baby," he muttered, nodding at the hospital employee standing nervously behind her.

She nodded slightly to indicate she heard the message loud and clear.

"I'll be OK, Lady Cat," Juice added. "Just gonna go get this checked out."

"I'm sure Tara's around somewhere and will have y'all patched up in no time," she assured him.

"We'll meet ya at the elevators, Tig," Bobby added.

"Be right there," Tig replied, his eyes never leaving Cat's face.

"Guess y'all won't be able to get away to join us for lunch," she mused wryly.

"'Fraid not, baby. June takin' ya home later?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I was gonna wait around for her until her shift ends. Figured I might nap in her office. All this activity has worn me down. I'd rather go home as soon as the meds are ready."

"That's prolly a good idea. Want me to bring the PT back for ya?"

She shook her head, her fingers still moving over the back of his hand. "Y'all have things to do. June's not on a set schedule, so she can slip away for a bit and come back when she needs to. I just hate askin' her."

"If you don't, I will," he growled.

She grimaced at that. "I'd rather y'all didn't use your powers of persuasion on her. I wanna keep her as a friend!"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! I can be charmin' when I hafta be!" he protested.

"I know y'all can, love. I'm not castin' aspersions on your dubious charms," she grinned slyly at him. The smile quickly gave way to a yawn that she hastily stifled.

"Looks like the doc was on track orderin' a chauffeur for ya," Alex observed, deciding not to rise to the bait she dangled. "You'll prolly feel stronger once ya eat. I'll see ya back at home."

"See ya when I see ya, love," she stroked the back of his hand as he stood and backed away to give Jeff room to pass. He watched until the aide piloted her around a corner before turning to join his brothers at the elevators.

"She looks all in, Tig," Bobby observed.

"Can't expect her to be dancin' in the hallway!" Tig retorted.

"I agree, man!" Bobby consoled him. "I'm just sayin' she doesn't need to push herself into a relapse. Too bad we gotta take off to Canada right away."

"We discussed it this mornin'. She's a'right with it," he muttered. 'I just wish I could have a little more time with her before we hafta take off again!'

The elevator opened and they stood aside to allow the passengers to disembark. The trio stepped inside and Bobby punched the button for the jail ward floor.

They found Clay and Jax, along with the rest of the club, standing in an outer hallway, well away from the jail ward doors. All of them reacted in shock and surprise at the sight of Juice's battered face.

No one was happy that the Calavarez had ambushed him with the Chicken Man's help and that the drugs and money from the steroids had been lost. The news that the Calavarez had taken his cut made them see red.

Clay quickly calmed their anger by sharing news of his own. While Jax had reached out to Belfast, TO of the Grim Bastards had called Clay with intel on the Mayan's heroin operation. He assigned Tig, Bobby, and Chibs to check out the industrial park where the operation was located.

Jax opted to go along as he felt completely useless at the hospital. Opie tagged along while Clay and Piney took Juice to get his injuries treated.

The Sons passed the lounge area to find Chuckie sitting and waiting. He'd ridden in the van with Piney for a check up for his arm injuries and was waiting for a ride back to the clubhouse.

Seeing Chuckie made Bobby think of their assignment, and how the Calavarez leader already knew all the Sons except Tig on sight. 'Salazar would've given his men a pretty good description of us from 'The Hole'.

He pointed out to Jax that Tig could use backup and Chuckie might prove helpful. Jax, like the SAA, felt some empathy for Otto's prison friend. 'Why not give the little guy a thrill?' He asked Chuckie if he'd like to join them and Chuckie readily agreed to go with them.

* * *

><p>McGee watched his brothers ride out of the confines of Ashby Alley, then gazed at the stairs leading to Mo's apartment. She'd been home for some time, the lights from the windows glowed softly above his head.<p>

'Thair's noo puttin' it off enny longer,' he mused to himself, setting one foot on the first stair and hauling himself towards the door. 'Ah must be gettin' auld; these steps nevva seemed so steep afore!'

He forced himself to trudge up each step until he reached the door. He paused a moment, one hand on the doorknob. He never had to knock; it was as much his home as Mo's. He took a deep breath, then turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped inside.

Soft music drifted from the kitchen. Not the heavy stuff that Trinity preferred, but the older music that he and Mo enjoyed. He knew Mo would be in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a smoke and a glass of Irish Whiskey, working on the store's books.

'Lykely she'll hae tha kettle on fer me,' he thought. It was their nightly ritual. He'd nurse a cup of tea while she nursed her whiskey. They'd talk of their day. Careful talk, mostly about her day at the store, never about club business. Eventually, they'd retire to bed and wake up to face another day.

He stepped into the kitchen from the entry. As expected, Maureen was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking while she poured over several papers in a notebook.

She looked up at him and smiled, informing him the kettle was still warm. Her smile of welcome faded when he tossed the folded sheet of paper to the table in front of her, advising her to tell him why she was meddling in his business.

She stared calmly up at him. She'd expected the day to come when his business and the other half of her life would clash. She wondered why it'd taken so long.

McGee sank into the kitchen chair next to hers, he was trying hard not to lose his temper, but Mo's stubbornness was making that difficult for him. He decided to lay it on the line with her, and told her everything he knew.

It came as no surprise to Maureen that McGee knew her cousin Cammie had taken the SAMCRO VP's son. Nor did it really shock her that McGee knew Cammie had come to her because he had no other options. McGee asked her flat out if she knew where Abel was, and if that was why she was reaching out to the mother charter. He begged her to let him help her.

Maureen felt as if her heart would break. She knew Keith cared greatly for her. He'd been good to her ever since JT had left for the last time; loved her and her daughter and protected them. She loved him in her own way. It was not the intense love she'd felt for John Teller, but it was satisfying.

Though McGee had a lot of power as SAMBEL president, Maureen knew he couldn't protect her from the RIRA. When she weighted the options, she could handle with Keith being mad at her and taking it out on her. That was much preferable to the way the RIRA treated anyone who crossed them. Cameron's death was all the reminder she needed.

McGee stared sadly at her, acknowledging her refusal to confide in him at face value. He well knew the power and reach of the RIRA. There was nothing he could do to keep SAMCRO from coming to Belfast. Mo had to do what she was told to do if she wanted to live. He'd have to find a way to live with the consequences.

He stood up and kissed her on the cheek, then trudged to the door. "Dinnae wayte oop fer me, darlin'. 'Tis gonna be a loong nyte," he murmured before stepping out into the wet, cool Irish night.

Maureen sat quietly after he left, staring at the folded sheet of paper before picking it up and gazing at it. She stuffed it in her pocket and drew heavily on the cigarette. 'Ah'll finish me books, then mayke tha call."

* * *

><p>Jax, Bobby, and Tig returned to St. Thomas to download Clay on the Mayan's operation. Before Chuckie was caught by Salazar and two of his cronies, Tig had managed to take pictures of the delivery manifest for Medina Industries.<p>

Tig reported that the next delivery would be to Stockton Prison the following day. He figured the Calavarez and Mayans were delivering more than janitorial supplies to the prison.

Bobby and Tig assured Clay that the Calavarez didn't connect Chuckie and Tig to SAMCRO. Chuckie was being checked out in the ER after being beaten by Salazar.

Clay nodded approvingly at the news, then turned his attention to his SAA. "Tig, I need to talk to ya about tomorrow's vote."

Tig gazed inquiringly at Clay, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "What about it?"

"Ya know we're votin' on prospects and transferrin' Happy back into SAMCRO."

"Yeah. I don't have a problem with that," Tig replied, narrowing his eyes as he wondered what Clay was leading up to.

"There's another transfer to vote on," Bobby supplied. "Kozik mentioned at Sack's wake that he wanted to transfer back. He's not happy with SAMTAC."

"Tough shit. I'm not sharin' a patch with that fucktard!"

"It's been eight years, Tig!" Clay protested quietly. Though they were alone in the hallway, he didn't want to call attention to their conversation. "Can't ya let it rest?"

"Would you?" Tig countered coldly. "Eight years, eight centuries. No matter how long it's been, it's still fresh to me as the day it happened."

Clay stared at him in disbelief. Tig sighed and continued, "OK, if I've gotta say it, here goes. I'm not happy with the shit he pulled on my woman. That's hard to forgive, brother."

"He was outta line. I told him that," Clay replied. "Hell, he's damn lucky Cat didn't turn shoot him in the nuts and be done with it for pullin' those stunts."

"We know you're not happy with the idea, Tig. But we really need manpower," Bobby explained.

"Not that bad. The three prospects and Hap are OK by me. Kozik can go to Hell!" Tig snarled.

"Do me a favor, Tig. Think about it. That's all I'm askin' ya to do. Go home, take some time with your old lady. Speakin' of which, guess ya know she was here today," Clay rumbled.

"Yeah. Saw her downstairs. She looks beat, but the doc says she's healin'," Tig replied, happy to let the subject of Kozik die a quick death. "Jax is takin' Ope and Chibs with him to Canada. Kinda glad not to be goin' so soon after returnin' from Oregon."

"Don't be too happy about it," Clay advised him. "Abel's not in Vancouver. That call Gemma took last night was from Maureen Ashby."

"McGee's old lady? What's she doin' reachin' out to Gem after all these years and what's she got to do with Abel?" Tig asked.

"She said Cameron brought Abel to Belfast. We're waitin' for confirmation from Maureen. Once we get it, we're all headin' to Belfast."

"So Lucas and O'Neill lied to Jax," Tig winced and rubbed his nose with his hand. 'Shit! That's not good. Neither is this news. Cat was OK about Vancouver, but not sure how she'll take an overseas assignment!'

Clay knew where Tig's thoughts were taking him. "I feel the same way about leavin' Gemma in her condition. That's why I want ya to take the rest of the day and spend it with your woman. She deserves better, but it's the best I can do right now."

"It's not just that, Clay. The bond revocation's comin' up. The minute we don't show - "

"We'll cross that bridge when and if we have to," Jax replied, digging his ringing cell phone from his pocket.

"Take your cell to Juice, let him download those pics ya took at the warehouse. He'll remove the pics from yer phone just to be safe," Clay ordered.

Jax gazed at the caller ID. Though the display didn't give a name, he could tell by the display that the call was from Belfast. He and Clay hurried to Gemma's room.

Tig and Bobby watched them depart, then Tig leaned one hand against the wall next to Bobby. "I don't like this," he grumbled, referring to Kozik.

"I know, brother. I told Clay you wouldn't like it when Kozik brought it up at Sack's wake. If we didn't need the numbers - "

"Can the hard sell, brother!" Tig growled. "Clay asked me to think about it. I'll do that. Not promisin' anything else."

Bobby held up his hands in resignation. "That's all we're askin' bro. Kozik's arrivin' in the mornin'. Maybe ya might warn Cat in case he shows up at the coffeehouse."

"Yeah," Tig murmured as he turned away. "No reason for her to get locked up for whackin' him with the baseball bat."

Bobby's lips twitched with laughter at the thought. 'And she'd do it in a heartbeat!'

* * *

><p>Jax answered the cell phone as he walked to Gemma's room. "Thanks for callin' back, Maureen. Hang on just a minute, I'm takin' the phone to Gemma."<p>

Maureen held the portable phone against her ear. She'd chosen to use her landline as opposed to the cell. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, a glass of Irish whiskey in one hand. A basket of clean laundry sat at the foot of the bed.

She assured Gemma that she was calling from her landline, then asked if the lad who answered the phone was JT's boy. She wincing when Gemma acidly declared her claim on Jax.

The two women mutually turned away from verbal sparring and got down to the purpose for the call, to confirm Abel's presence in Belfast. Maureen described Abel's belly scar, and the clothes he'd worn when Cammie brought him to her - a cheap onesie and a blue beanie with a white pom on it.

Maureen picked up the hat, turning it in her hand and smiling wistfully as she described it to her former rival. 'JT's gransun wuz in me cayre fer sech a short tyme, but Ah fell in lurve wi' 'im ryte oof. Fr. Kellan is wrong in this cayse. Tha bairn needs 'is da.'

Gemma's eyes flooded with tears at Maureen's dead on description of Abel's scar. The clothes she described were exactly as he'd appeared in the photo taken of him in Vancouver. She passed the phone to her son, who had been listening intently to his mother's side of the conversation.

Maureen explained to Jax that she couldn't guarantee Abel's safety for very long. Nor could she safely provide any more intel than she'd already given. She turned off the phone and sighed with relief, unaware that her daughter had overheard her side of the conversation from the hallway.

Jax gazed from his step father to his stricken mother. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or more frightened by the confirmation. It meant he'd been lied to by a brother, an officer in the club. That was bad enough. The possibility that his son was in jeopardy was worse.

He announced that they definitely had to go to Belfast to retrieve his son. No matter what the club decided, his mind was already made up. He'd leave as soon as possible, and deal with the ramifications of not showing for his bond revocation on his return.

Maureen sighed with relief that the call was behind her. She still had to deal with McGee, but that would come later. 'Ryte noo, Ah need ta deal wi' a refill!'

She strode into the kitchen to find Trinity sitting at her place at the table, going over the books. Trinny was smoking and didn't look happy.

As Maureen poured the liquor in her glass, Trinity confronted her about the telephone call. She demanded Maureen fill her in on the details, reminding her mother she was no longer a child to be protected and cosseted.

Maureen leaned wearily against the doorway. She felt old. 'They grow oop so fahst! She thin's she's able ta handle tha trooth. She doesnae kin hoo ugly tha trooth can be!'

She gazed at her daughter and explained that the mother charter would be coming to visit. That was all the truth she felt her daughter could handle. Trinity stared at her in disbelief, but Maureen crept back to her room, unwilling to say anything more.

* * *

><p>Clay and Jax stared in disbelief at Stahl, who'd just announced that the US Attorney had revoked the deal.<p>

'That gash is enjoyin' this!' Clay thought angrily, voicing his opinion of Stahl, who waved his caustic comments away as if she were swatting at an annoying fly.

Stahl had walked quietly in on Gemma while she was asleep, the black and white photo of Cameron Hayes and Abel clutched in her hand. Stahl taken the print out from Gemma's hand, which woke the patient. The Fed attempted to grill Gemma about her grandson's whereabouts, but Gemma refused to talk.

Before Stahl could do more than warn Gemma that she should reconsider her lack of cooperation, Clay had tried to force his way past the agent guarding the door in order to protect Gemma.

Stahl cleared Clay and Jax to enter the room so she could deliver the killing blow to Gemma's psyche. Stahl took personal delight in pouring salt into Gemma's emotional wounds, reminding the former fugitive of the ramifications of that reversal.

As a parting shot, Stahl told Gemma that if she gave up the club, the US Attorney might be willing to reconsider the deal. If not, her days were numbered. Stahl fired one final parting shot before gracefully exiting the room.

Gemma managed to maintain her composure until Stahl left, then she broke down, crying her eyes out in Clay's comforting arms.

Jax stood staring helplessly at his emotionally distraught mother. 'What the Hell can I do for her now?' His temper flared and he hurried out the door after the agent.

Gemma noticed Jax's departure, but said nothing to Clay about it. She didn't care whether her son confronted Stahl about the revoked deal or not. She was hurt, tired, and needed her husband's presence.

She eventually ran out of tears and Clay laid her gently back against the pillows. Luckily, the crying jag hadn't triggered the heart monitors, so the nurse hadn't shooed him away.

"How can you two go to Belfast with the bond revocation hearin' tomorrow?" Gemma asked fearfully.

Clay looked down at the floor, unable to deny or acknowledge her comment. "How'd you know?"

"I know you won't allow him to go alone," she explained. "You can't get there and back in just a few hours!"

"I'll reach out to Lowen. Have her check out Stahl's claim," Clay assured her. "The gash has lied before, it wouldn't surprise me that she's lyin' now."

"And if she's not?"

"Then maybe Lowen can ask for a continuance or somethin' to buy us time," Clay stated. "It's not your worry, baby."

"I can't help worryin'," she replied.

"Worryin' is what got ya here in the first place. That and not takin' your meds," Clay cautioned her. "You let me do the worryin' for awhile." He kissed her on the forehead and stood up.

"Where ya goin'?"

"Just outside to call Lowen. Wanna do it where big ears outside can't hear. You just rest a while, OK?"

"Check on Jax for me. The way he rushed outta here, I'm afraid he'll do something stupid to Stahl."

"I'll take care of it," Clay promised.

Gemma tried to relax, but she fretted about her son. Jax had a temper and seeing Stahl make her cry would have set him off. 'He must not've done anything to her, we'd have heard about it from that watchdog outside."

Something else was bothering her, but she couldn't pin it down. It was important to her. She closed her eyes and then it came to her. She had to do something about the things she'd wanted to keep from her father's home!

'If I hadn't caused everyone to leave so damn early, there'd be no problem!' She fretted about the items and what to do about it. 'I feel like a heel, but there's only one person I trust to handle this.' She picked up the throwaway cell Jax had given her and dialed Tig's cell.

Tig was sitting in the back yard of his house, enjoying a smoke and trying to unwind before he went inside his home.

'I can imagine how wiped out Cat must feel! This has been a fucking long day!' His mind whirled from all the things he'd experienced, from the buy outs on Liberty Street to the Mayan/Calavarez drug operation and Chuckie getting beat up by Salazar and his gang.

'Always figured knowin' how to work a forklift would come in handy. Those asshats deserve whatever those chemicals dose to 'em for beatin' on Chuckie!'

His thoughts turned to Lumpy's situation. Tig had protected the old man for years. He was deeply hurt that Lumpy would choose to remain silent about the harassment he'd been enduring from the unseen developers. 'What kind of friend am I that Lump feels that he can't turn to me for help?'

He grimaced when he felt the cell vibrate in his pocket. 'Shit! Can't a man get a little rest?' He withdrew it from his pocket and checked the caller ID before answering it. "Hey, Gemma! You a'right?"

"I'm need a favor, Tig," she evaded his question.

"Name it, darlin'," he drawled. 'Guess she's tired of bein' asked that!'

"Would you be willin' to go back to Klamath Falls and bring those boxes home? I don't want to take a chance of losin' that stuff to the estate auction." Gemma asked tremulously.

'Shit! She _would _stress about that stuff. Can't blame her, I guess, though her timin' leaves a lot to be desired!' he blew a stream of smoke through his nostrils.

"I know it's askin' a lot when you wanna be with your wife," she added. "At least it gets you two away from interruptions!"

He grinned and responded reassuringly, "No problem, Gemma. I've been lookin' for a reason to get Cat away from here for a bit. A road trip like this might be good for her."

"I was thinkin' along those lines," Gemma sighed with relief.

"I gotta talk to her about the Belfast trip, anyway. Can't think of a better time to spring it on her than durin' a road trip."

Gemma snorted with wry laughter. "That's you all over, takin' care of two birds with one stone. I owe you both, honey."

"Don't worry about it. We'll get your stuff for ya. Rest up and get better."

"I'll tell Clay you're goin'. Will you need the van?"

Tig thought back to the size and number of boxes that needed to be transported. "Too many boxes for the PT to handle, the van would be useful."

"It's yours, Tigger. I'll tell Clay. Drive safe. And don't wear Cat out too much!" She disconnected the call before he could come up with a suitable parting shot.

He grinned and squashed out the cigarette in the ashtray, slipping his cell back in his pocket. He stood up, stretched, and slipped into the house.

The house was quiet, except for strains of music coming from the master bedroom. He assumed the cats were at the coffeehouse as Ebony hadn't challenged him at the door. June had returned to the hospital after bringing Cat home. She'd left him a message to that effect on his cell phone.

He grinned and sauntered to the bedroom, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest. Cat was laying on the bed, her uninjured arm curled protectively around Misty. The little feline was curled in a tight furry ball along her person's side.

The tape player next to the bed was playing some decent tunes by Neil Diamond. Though the music was softer than what he preferred, the songs weren't too sappy or love sick for him to tolerate.

The selection currently filling the room was a song about _'Mothers and Daughters, Fathers and Sons'. _ It reminded him of his desire to track down his grown daughters. 'That's sumthin' else I need to talk to Cat about. Maybe when we get back from Belfast. Not fair to spring all this shit on her at once.'

He noted with satisfaction that she looked less pale and stressed than she'd appeared at the hospital. The rest seemed to be restoring her. 'Maybe I shouldn't take her along, but fuck it! We haven't had much private time together since Gem went on the lam. Be damned if I'll miss this chance!'

He prowled across the room to his side of the bed and lay down next to her, careful not to startle either of his sleeping girls. He propped his head on one hand while the other moved slowly over her stomach and breasts to wake her.

"Hmmm. Feels nice," she crooned without opening her eye.

"It should," he growled softly. "I need ya to wake up, baby. Gotta talk to ya."

"Damn! Don't tell me ya gotta leave already!" she protested sleepily. "Thought y'all weren't leavin' 'til tomorrow mornin'!"

"Somethin's come up, baby," he insisted, gently shaking her in an effort to make her look at him. It was difficult for him to keep a straight face. 'I owe her a little teasin' for that remark earlier about my dubious charms!'

She sighed and reluctantly opened her eye to glare at him. "OK, I'm awake. And I'm not real happy about this, love. Sorry, but I was kinda hopin' to have a little time with you before y'all had head North!"

"I know ya did, baby. Turns out I gotta run an errand tonight before we head outta the country. Thought I'd see if ya wanted to tag along," he replied nonchalantly.

'Been quite a while since we've had a chance to take a jaunt,' she smiled eagerly at him. "Hell, yes I'd like to tag along!" She extricated her arm from Misty's furry embrace and started to sit up.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Not so fast, baby! We ain't leavin' yet!" He reached out and drew her close to him, resting his chin on her head, careful of the sling. The move woke up the feline, who stared balefully out of her one eye at Alex before stalking to the foot of the bed and hopping to the floor.

She circled his waist with her good arm, burying her nose in his chest and inhaling his scent. "I don't give a shit where we're goin', as long as we're goin' together!"

Her hair tickled his nose as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of the berry and tea scented shampoo she used. "Gemma asked me to get the stuff she wanted from the family home. It'll be a long trip, we're goin' up and comin' right back. That's not gonna be too much for ya, is it?"

She shook her head. "Knowin' y'all, ya won't let me spell y'all, so I should get plenty of rest. We gonna take _Black Beauty?_"

He grinned and pushed her away from him just enough that he could gaze at her. "I wish we could, baby. The PT doesn't have enough storage space. We'll have to take the garage van."

"Shit! That damn van doesn't allow for a lot of snugglin'," she frowned.

"You behave on the trip, and I'll give ya plenty of snugglin' when ya least expect it!" he grinned wickedly.

"I'll hold y'all to that," she replied with a wicked grin of her own. "While we're there, we can retrieve my laptop and your duffel. No sense in leavin' them behind a second time."

Alex grimaced at her subtle rebuke. "Sorry 'bout that."

"I know, love. It's not like you had time to run back to the Madoc homestead to pack everything."

He grinned and kissed her thoroughly for her forgiving nature. "I owe ya one, baby."

"Just one?" she replied, her eyebrow arching up her forehead "When do we leave?"

"As soon as possible. Ya think June's gonna be a'right about us leavin' her alone for a night?"

Cat nodded. "She might appreciate having some time to herself."

"We could take her along, give you two more time to visit," he offered grandly. 'Please say no, baby. I'd kinda like to have ya all to myself.'

She gazed intently at him. 'Sweet of him to offer, but he doesn't really want her to come along.' She shook her head and replied, "Consider me selfish, but I'd rather it was just us. I want ya all to myself, love."

He touched his lips to hers in silent gratitude. "Get yourself ready. We'll take the PT to the garage, get the van, and get on the road," he murmured against her lips, moving his hands down her back to cradle her bottom.

"Guess I'd better, or we'll never get outta the house," she laughed, twisting out of his embrace and running her hand along his crotch, gently patting his hardness. "I'll be right out. You, my love, go warm up the car."

"Don't forget some road tunes, baby," he reminded her gruffly. 'We're definitely makin' a 'snuggle' stop along the way.' He sauntered out to the coat closet, grabbing his leather jacket from its' hanger before going out to the PT.

"I can see why she named you _Black Beauty," _he murmured, opening the driver's door and sliding behind the steering wheel. "I can't wait to try ya out."

He gazed admiringly at the black leather interior and inhaled the fresh, new car scent mingled with Cat's own unique fragrance. He grinned at the stuffed animals and other items resting in the various nooks and crannies. 'Just like the _MF6. _She's already made it hers. Now we need to make it _ours_.'

He turned the key and was rewarded by the purr of the PT's turbo engine, more powerful than the previous PT. He liked the jaguar head on the gearshift, along with the unique pedals for the brake and accelerator.

'No wonder she wanted this one! This car screams with testosterone!' He thought approvingly.

Cat slipped her arms into a long sleeved shirt, then shrugged into her corduroy duster and placed her arm in the sling. She grabbed a couple of CDs she'd burnt of appropriate road music and slipped them in a pocket of her coat.

She felt a surge of anticipation at getting some time alone with Alex away from all the demands on them. She'd been looking forward to his first drive in the '_Black Beauty_' since it'd been delivered.

She stepped into the office long enough to pen a note to June to explain their absence. '_Hey, kittenface. Alex and I are on a jaunt, likely to be oh dark thirty before we're back, if not sunrise. Help yourself to whatever ya'll wanna eat. I'll have the cell with me. We'd have waited for y'all, but I think you understand and will forgive our bein' a little selfish. Love ya! Cat and Alex'_

She taped the note to the library door, then grabbed her fedora. She petted the cats, explaining that their 'Aunt June' would take care of them that evening, then slipped out of the house to join Alex in the PT.

"No funny business, mister!" she admonished warningly as she grudgingly slid the seat belt in place. "You keep those baby blues on the road and your hands on the wheel!"

"Man, ya don't let me have any fun!" He pouted, shifting the PT into gear and rolling sedately out of the drive.

"Gives y'all somethin' to look forward to, love!" she replied, tipping the fedora over her brow.

* * *

><p>Stahl strode through the hospital hallways to the service entrance. She could see her car through the glass door. Tyler was leaning against the passenger door waiting anxiously for her.<p>

She didn't know that Jax was following her until she was in the driver's seat and backing the car from the parking space. Jax was standing on the steps glaring at the departing vehicle. Stahl smirked at him as she gazed in the rear view mirror. She could tell that Jax was mad and wanted to wring her neck, but he was powerless to do anything to her. She felt safe from any revenge for her actions against Gemma.

'He's too smart to try anything in public, and he doesn't know where I live! Even if he managed to follow me without me knowing, he won't do anything in Tyler's presence!'

Stahl pulled away from the hospital, dismissing Jax from her mind. She was looking forward to a relaxing evening at home.

Jax had an idea as he watched Stahl's personal car back towards him. He reached into his inner cut pocket for a pen, but realized he had nothing to write on except his hand. He shrugged and wrote Stahl's plate number on his palm. 'It'll wash off or wear off, one or the two,' he thought dismissively.

While Stahl piloted her vehicle from the parking lot, Jax ran to his Harley. He rode to the club as fast as he could, relieved to find Juice's bike parked in the lot.

He rushed into the clubhouse to find Juice going over the pictures of the delivery manifests Tig had captured.

"How's Gemma?" Juice asked.

"Upset," he replied tersely, explaining Stahl's latest atrocity.

Juice winced in sympathy. "That bitch doesn't know when to stop."

"She's crossed the line this time. Can you hack into the DMV and get the address for this plate?" He held out his palm to Juice, who copied the number on a piece of paper.

"Is this what I think it is?" Juice inquired.

Jax nodded, "It's Stahl's personal vehicle."

Juice grinned wickedly. "Does Kellogg's make cornflakes? I'll have it for ya in a few minutes."

"Good. I'll be in the chapel."

Juice opened a new window on his laptop and began furiously tapping the keys. Jax headed into the chapel and sat at his place. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and settled down to think.

He was furious with Stahl, but beating the shit out of her wasn't the answer, no matter how pleasurable it might be. He abhorred violence against women, children, and animals. Stahl was an exception he was willing to make.

'She may have a job to do, but she's crossed the line one time too often. She's played with too many people's lives where this club is concerned. She didn't learn a thing with Donna's death. She tried to use Chibs' fear for his wife and daughter against us. Now she's hurtin' Mom. A pit bull has less tenacity than her!'

He blew smoke into the air above him and stared at the ceiling without seeing it. He searched his fertile mind for answers. He needed to come up with an idea that would benefit his mother and his club.

He stood up and roamed around the chapel. He needed to write down some thoughts. His hand wasn't large enough to hold everything he needed to write. His eyes spotted a pile of blank paper on a shelf and he grabbed a few pieces.

Returning to his seat, he bent his head over the paper and began writing, covering several pages with ideas. He reviewed the writing, crossing out some ideas as whimsical or too complicated.

'The bait has to be plausible. It has to be big enough to tempt Stahl to work with me, yet not drive a wedge in any of our alliances.'

There was one alliance he felt SAMCRO could do without. Jimmy O had lied to him about Abel from the start. Jimmy had also brought the Hayes men to work with SAMCRO, only to have the Hayes turn on the club to supply their enemy, Zobelle, with the guns that belonged to the Sons.

'Jimmy has to pay for that betrayal. I can use Lucas, his second in command as leverage. Jimmy's in Ireland and can't do a thing to help Lucas. Stahl can use her influence as a Fed to keep Lucas out of the loop for awhile.'

Now that he had a concrete foundation, Jax's idea began to take shape. He'd have to bring the club in on it, which meant they'd need to vote on it right away.

He outlined his plan on a single sheet of paper, satisfied that it would work. Juice knocked on the door and handed him a folded piece of paper when Jax announced he could come in. "Here it is, brother."

"Stick around, Juice. I'm callin' for a meeting."

"Want me to call the others?" he inquired, handing the print out with the address to the VP.

"Yeah. If you don't mind. I'll call Clay."

"Glad to help, brother," Juice replied, eager to put his error in losing his cut behind him any way he could.

"What's up, son?" Clay's voice rumbled in his ear. "You safe?"

"Yeah. I'm in the chapel. Need a meeting of the club."

"Is it about Stahl?"

"Yeah. I've come up with a plan, and I'll need the garage van tonight," Jax replied.

"Shit! Tig was gonna take it back to Klamath Falls to get your mother's things!"

Jax sighed. "I'll call Unser, see if he'll rent us a truck. How's Mom?"

"Scared. I'm gonna call Rossen's office, see if he can reach out to the US Attorney about this."

"Stahl's played with our people's lives for the last time!" Jax growled.

"I think I'm liking your idea already. I'll tell your Mom I hafta leave for a bit and be there shortly."

Jax ended the call, then dialed Unser's number. In minutes, he had made arrangements for a rental truck for the next 24 hours, to be delivered to the garage.

* * *

><p>McGee sat at the bar in the SAMBEL clubhouse, an half - empty bottle of whiskey in front of him. 'Ifn thair wuz enny way ta avoid this, Ah'd tayke it inna 'earbeat! Ah love Mo, Ah love me club. Boot ifn Ah dinnae tell Jimmy aboot SAMCRO coomin' ta Belfast, all Ah've tried ta build fer meself will be loyst!'<p>

He hefted the bottle and threw back a swallow of whiskey, feeling the fire burn the back of his throat to his stomach. He stared at the cell phone lying on the bar beside the bottle. Sighing heavily, he picked it up and pressed the quick dial number that connected his phone to Jimmy's.

"Wha' is it, McGee?" Jimmy inquired tonelessly.

"Nae gud news," McGee replied. "SAMCRO kin aboot tha bairn, an' tha' ye an' Liam lied ta 'em. Lykely makin' arrangements ta coom ta Belfast."

Jimmy remained silent for a moment. The news didn't come as a surprise. "Ah see. Bin expectin' tha'. Ah'll mayke shur they gie tha proper welcoom. Ye go ahead an' tayke cair o' thair creature coomferts fer them."

"A'right."

McGee closed the cell and rubbed his face with one hand. Clay was a friend. One of the First Nine. They'd built the Sons of Anarchy into a thriving club, with several charters in Ireland and the US. Clay had made gun running the profitable venture for the charters, as opposed to sinking into drugs.

But the profits from guns wasn't enough to ensure that McGee could comfortably retire. MC's didn't have retirement plans. Mo was willing to launder the club's money through her store, but somehow there wasn't a lot left after everyone else got their cut.

'Ah wish ta 'Ell Ah'd tole Jimmy ta shive 'is offer up 'is ahss in tha furst playce! Tha mooney ain't wurth tha 'eartache!'

He hefted the bottle again and downed a healthy swig. McGee intended to get shit faced that night. He knew he'd need his wits about him in the days to come. For this one night, he just wanted to forget everything. He hoped the hangover would be worth it, but knew in his heart it wouldn't be.

* * *

><p>Ally Lowen looked up from the file she was reading, which contained information about the Morado Christain Center assault involving the Sons. 'I don't see how the judge can agree to revoke their bail. They stormed the place with guns ready, but they were shot at first. The few reports the police took at the scene indicate the club was fired upon! Plus I have Cat's pictures of the shots coming from the podium! The only thing that might go against SAMCRO is the presence of a few AK's. The Feds might squawk about that.'<p>

The intercom buzzed for her attention. "Clay Morrow on line one. He asked for Rossen."

"I've got it," she replied, pressing the blinking button next to the line and lifting the receiver. "It's Ally Lowen, Clay. What's up?"

"Where's Rossen?" the granite voice rumbled in her ear.

"You get to deal with me, now, sweetheart. Rossen turned the club over to me the minute he made me a partner!"

"Congrats on the promotion. Guess Rossen thought the club reflects badly on his more high class clientele."

"Probably. Rossen always seems more interested in appearances. How's Gemma?" Lowen had learned of Gemma's collaspe and arrest nearly the moment it happened. Unser had taken the time to call the office and fill her in.

"She's recoverin', or will if Stahl would leave her alone!" Clay snarled.

"What's the bitch done now?" Lowen inquired, reaching for a pen and legal pad to take notes.

She wrote quickly as Clay filled her in on the supposed revocation of the deal.

"That holds about as much water as a leaky sieve!" Lowen seethed.

"It really upset Gemma."

"I can imagine," Lowen replied sympathetically. "Technically, Stahl's logic is correct; but the US Attorney isn't made of steel. They've been known to bend when circumstances warrant."

"Let me know what you find out. You have my number." Clay shut off the phone and returned to Gemma's hospital room long enough to tell her he had a meeting at the clubhouse.

Gemma's eyes were closed, her lashes looked like dark half moons on her pale features. Clay's heart nearly broke to see the oxygen tube in place under her nose and an IV dripping fluids and medication into her veins.

'Obviously brought on by that fuckin' Fed bitch!' he mumbled to himself, looking for something he could use to write her a note.

Gemma stirred, sensing his presence in her drug - induced sleep. She blinked her eyes open and croaked, "Hey baby. What did Rossen say?"

"Nothin'. Rossen turned us over to Lowen; kind of a back handed promotion award. She made partner."

Gemma smiled wryly at the news. "Dubious award,"

"She doesn't seem to think so. She's gonna check in with the US Attorney's office and call me backon about Stahl's claim."

"I'm not gonna rat," Gemma stated.

"I know that, baby," he replied soothingly. He could tell something else was on his wife's mind. "You're still worried about your stuff, aren't ya?"

"Yeah, but I did somethin' about it. Tig is gonna need the garage van tonight. He and Cat are goin' to Daddy's to get my stuff," she announced.

"I really wish ya hadn't done that, baby!" he protested. "Don't ya think they deserve a little time to themselves?"

"That's why I asked him. He knows where things are, and he and Cat can have some time away from here," she explained.

Clay's expression softened in response to the pleading look on her face. "It's gonna be hard on Tig; all that drivin', plus carryin' the boxes around on his own with that injured shoulder."

"Already taken care of, baby," Gemma replied. "I called Jean Peters, the church secretary. She said she'd get some of the church kids to help. They need this trip, Clay."

"I know they do, baby. Guess I'm surprised you'd think about this after what Stahl pulled."

"Somethin' was naggin' at me after you left to call Rossen's office. That's when I remembered those boxes. Tig says he's gonna use the trip to fill Cat in about the Ireland trip."

"That's not the only thing he has to tell her. We're votin' on Kozik transferrin' in."

"Are you shitting me? How can you do that to Tig?" Gemma snapped.

"We need the manpower, baby. Hell, it's been eight years. Time for him to get over it," Clay replied sternly.

"You know that if it's good for the club, I'm all for it, but you forget how tenacious Tig can be about some things. Cat has her own reasons for havin' little Kozik love," Gemma reminded him. "If we hear fireworks go off later from the North, we'll know the cause!"

"I suppose so, baby," Clay grinned, bending over to kiss her forehead. "I'll be back later. You get some rest."

Gemma had been fighting to keep her eyes open during their conversation. The emotional storm following Stahl's visit had exhausted her, and it was likely she'd been given something to help her relax. He wanted her to rest for awhile.

"She'll be all right while you're gone," Tara assured him in the outer hallway. He'd not wanted to talk about his wife's condition anywhere near the Fed.

"I gave her something to relax her; she'll sleep and I've made it clear that she's not to be interrogated any further today."

"Like that'll do any good!" Clay scoffed.

"It will," Tara replied quietly. "This may be the prison ward, but we doctors are the law where the patient's well being is concerned!"

Clay grinned wickedly. "I like that kind of law enforcement!"

He dismounted from the bike just as a box truck pulled into the entrance. It was from Unser's trucking firm, similar to the one SAMCRO had used to ambush Zobelle a few days ago.

Clay winced at the sight of the box truck. 'Tig is gonna freak at that! What was Jax thinkin'?'

Jax strolled out of the clubhouse just as the box truck pulled in, took one look at the box truck and ran to the driver's side.

"Take this thing back right now! I didn't ask for anything this big!"

"This is all we've got!" the driver replied. "What's the problem?"

Jax clenched his fists to keep from strangling the driver. "Tig and his old lady were gonna be usin' the vehicle. Remember? A box truck hit her car just a few days ago and put her in the hospital?"

"Oh my God! Unser didn't mention that!"

"I didn't tell him who was usin' it," Jax admitted. "Go on, get outta here before Tig gets here. I'll figure somethin' out."

The driver started the engine and backed out of the parking spot. He sped through the entrance and out into the street without a backward glance.

Clay walked up to Jax and clapped the VP on the back. "Good thinkin'. I doubt Tig would've appreciated seein' that box truck."

"Might not've done Cat any good either," Jax replied. "I'll let 'em take my truck. Not like I'll be usin' it tonight."

"Guess not. Wanna fill me in on what you're plannin' to do?"

Jax shook his head. "I'll wait for the meetin', would rather fill you all in at the same time."

"Fair enough," Clay replied, watching the shiny black PT enter the lot. The _'Charming Pawse' _magnetic signs from her wrecked PT adorned both front passenger doors.

'So that's Cat's replacement car. Figures she'd stick with Mopar. If she wasn't usin' it for her business, she prolly would've gone for one of those so - called 'muscle cars'.'

Clay grinned at the sight of Tig sitting in the PT's driver seat. 'Tig rarely takes the passenger seat in _any_ four wheeled vehicle!' he mused. 'That seems to be one of the cars he likes!'

Clay stood next to the driver's door as Tig shut off the engine. "Gemma says you two are goin' to Klamath Falls to get her stuff."

"Yeah," Tig replied with a leer at Cat. She was reclining slightly in the passenger seat, her fedora pulled low over her eyes.

"I need ya inside a minute. Chapel," he glanced at Cat and added, "It won't be long."

"No worries, Clay. I ain't goin' anywhere until he's ready to go. I'm sadly out of practice at hotwirin' vehicles," she quipped.

Tig removed the keys from the ignition with a wolfish grin. "I'll just take these for safe keepin'! Just wait here and rest, baby. I'll be back soon."

She nodded and waved them off. Tig closed the car door and followed Clay into the clubhouse. Neither spoke until the door had closed behind them.

"What's up?" Tig inquired of his friend.

"Somethin's come up."

"Kozik, again?" Tig spat.

"Nope. Somethin' more important."

They entered the chapel where the rest of the club was waiting for them. Tig settled into his chair while Clay took his place at the head of the table.

"OK, Jax. What made you ask for this meeting?"

Clay inquired.

Jax sat forward on his chair, gazing earnestly at his club. A single sheet of paper with his notes lay in front of him. "Stahl is putting the screws on Mom, giving her a rough time to get intel on the club. I've got a plan to get her off our backs once and for all."

The men nodded as a group, their faces expectant. All of them had good reason to want Stahl to get her just desserts. Opie gazed intently at Jax.

"What I propose to do is turn Jimmy O'Phelan and Lucas in to the ATF."

The men responded with roars of outrage. As much as they disliked Stahl, none of them liked the idea of ratting out one of their allies, no matter how two - faced that ally might be.

"Listen up!" Jax shouted over his brother's loud protests. "I've not lost my mind! Just listen!"

Clay held up his hand in a gesture that silenced the men. "Let him finish explaining!" he growled, glaring at his step - son. 'I'm not sure I like this idea, but I'll hear it out before decidin' for or against it.'

Jax waited until the mumbling and grumbling gave way to silence, then continued. "I've got Stahl's home address."

"That an' a quarter might get ya a cup of coffee at the coffeehouse," Tig sneered.

His brothers snickered at his remark. Jax glared across the table at the SAA and waited again for silence. "I'd like to lay this out to you guys. Maybe then it'll make sense. Lucas is makin' a pick up tonight. I'm gonna ambush him and turn him over to Stahl at her house, then offer to turn rat against the club and Jimmy O."

"Dinnae go thair, Jaxy bhoy!" Chibs cried, thinking of his recent encounter with Stahl. He'd offered to turn on Jimmy O in a misguided attempt to help the club. "Ifn noot fer tha leverage Opie 'ad at tha tyme, Ah wouldnae be 'ere noo!" he insisted, casting an apologetic gaze at Opie.

"He's right, Jax," Opie added quietly, nodding slightly at Chibs. "That bitch will use you and toss you away like garbage!"

"I've already considered that," the VP replied quietly. "I'm going into this fully expecting Stahl to betray me. Turning Lucas over to her should be enough to overturn her demotion. In exchange, I'm gonna ask her to restore Mom's deal. She'll want more, and I'll pretend to give it to her."

"And what do you get for that?" Clay asked.

"The Feds have pull with local justice. She can get us a continuance on the bond hearing. That should give us enough time to find a way to Belfast, retrieve Abel, and get back without havin' to do hard time."

Bobby frowned at Jax's reference to their doing time. "What do you mean that we won't have to do hard time. Why should we do any time at all for the rush on Zobelle? We have proof we didn't fire!"

"Our use of AKs at the Christian Center is gonna get us some prison time. The Feds are gonna demand it for the continuance," Jax replied. He laid out his entire plan from start to finish.

He sat back in his chair and waited for his brothers to react.

Tig glanced around the table at his brothers. None of them seemed able to respond to Jax's plan. It was well thought out, and would take some time to implement. It would also result in eliminating a major thorn in the club's side without SAMCRO suffering any consequences from it.

Clay stirred slightly, carefully lighting a cigar and blowing smoke through his nostrils. "Stahl's had a wild hair up her ass about us for months. If we don't act now, she'll use the Morado charges to get us outta the way for a long stretch. We've seen how she works once too often," he glanced at Opie and Chibs while thinking of how she'd first tried to use Otto against them.

"I don't like givin' the appearance that we're lyin' down with that bitch," Clay continued. "As long as the flea powder holds out, we should be a'right."

"One other thing, Mom and the rest of the women can't know what's goin' on until it's over. If all goes right, Stahl won't be an issue for us when we start doin' our time," Jax added. "All our women, includin' Fiona, can't be told anything about this for it to work. "

Tig had to admit they had little choice. 'If we don't do this, Stahl will find some way to tack decades on our time,' he thought, closing his eyes for a moment. 'I don't like the idea of keepin' my girl outta the loop. But this is club business. She'll understand. She always does.'

Clay glanced around the table, pleased that his men were using care in considering Jax's proposal. 'I'm glad they're not rushin' into this. I know it's risky, but it can work.' He could tell by their body language when they were ready for the vote.

"We have to play our cards close to our chests. It's gonna be tough, but the end result will be worth it. I vote yay."

The vote was swift and unanimous. Clay tapped the gavel, signaling the meeting was over. He nodded for Tig to wait to wait behind while the others filed outside the chapel.

"Chibs, Cat's waitin' for me outside. Would ya go keep her company for a bit?" Tig asked, lighting up a cigarette.

"Ye jest want me ta keep 'er oot of mischeef," Chibs retorted with a grin. "Be my playshure!"

"Thanks, man."

Chibs nodded and closed the door behind him, leaving Clay and Tig to talk together.

"If ya wanna discuss Kozik patchin' in, I don't wanna talk about it again," Tig stated coldly.

Clay inhaled on his cigar, staring off at the windows across the chapel. "You have deep issues with the guy. Don't blame you."

"After tomorrow's vote, with Happy and three prospects, we'll have more numbers at the table than we've had in a long time. We don't need _him_."

"I disagree. Now that we're gonna get in bed with that gas, we're gonna need Kozik. Just take time to think about it. Discuss it with Cat, cause I need her to cut him some slack."

"She'd rather cut somethin' else on him!" Tig snorted. "Does Gemma know about Kozik?"

"She's not happy with it because she cares about you, but she's on board. She knows it's for the good of the club."

Tig glared at Clay, his mind rebelling against the idea of letting Kozik return to the mother charter. "How can ya askme to share a patch with _that?_"

"I'm askin' ya to think of the big picture here. Kozik's transfer has to be unanimous. You can either help us or hurt us on this one. I hope you'll help us."

Tig shook his head. "I won't make any promises I can't deliver, Clay."

"Fair enough. As for the bond revocation, Cat already knows about. Lowen informed her while ya were away."

"Figures!" Tig nearly choked on his cigarette. 'She never let on that she knew! The minx!'

Clay sighed as he stood up. "You two be safe. I'll see ya tomorrow. The votes are set for mid - mornin'."

"A'right," Tig growled, standing up along with Clay. They faced each other briefly, then engaged in a brief version of the 'bro hug double back tap'. He turned and strode out of the chapel, his eyebrows furrowed with frustration.

'He's not happy. Don't blame him. If things were different, I wouldn't ask. Wish he'd understand that,' Clay sank into his chair at the head of the empty table. 'I hope Cat can help him see where I'm comin' from, but sometimes she can hold a grudge as long as Tig can.'

* * *

><p>Chibs walked out of the clubhouse and on across the lot to the black PT that he knew was Cat's replacement vehicle. He found her reclining in the passenger seat with her fedora pulled low over her eyes. "Hey, sister! Waytin' fer yer auld man?"<p>

"Hey, back, brother!" she sat up and slid carefully out of the car to give him a swift hug. "Looks like I won't be waitin' much longer if y'all are out here!"

"Ye two takin' oof onna jaunt?" he grinned.

"Yeah. Gemma's wantin' some stuff she packed from her dad's house. We're goin' up to retrieve 'em. Gives us a little private time."

Chibs grinned roguishly. "Uh, huh."

She playfully swatted his shoulder. "Watch that dirty mind of yers, brother!"

"Yer always sayin' a durty mynd is a turrible thing ta wayste," he replied. "I dinnae wayste mine!"

"None of y'all do!" she laughed. "Hear anything of Fiona and Kerrianne?"

Chibs' eyes glazed over in sorrow. "Nothin' new, darlin'. All Ah kin is tha' rat basturd sent Fi back ta Ireland, boot e's severed all contact. I kin only hope my gurls are a'right."

Cat laid a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Chibs. I'm keepin' 'em in my prayers."

"Me too, Lady Cat. I need ta ashk ye fer 'elp fer tha cloob wi' Tig."

Cat's eyes narrowed behind her wraparounds. 'I've gotta bad feelin' about this!'

Chibs knew her body language quite well to know what she was thinking. "Noo, Lady Cat! Ye know we wouldnae ask ye ta betray 'im. We need manpower, an' Kozik wants ta transfer back in."

"Why should I give a rat's ass about that fucktard patchin' in? That's up to all y'all!"

"Aye. Tomorrow's tha vote. We need ta 'ave Tig on board wi' it. Yer opinion is gonna weigh on 'is decision."

"Why do all y'all think I have any pull on Tig's decision where this club is concerned!" she exploded hotly. "Get this straight once and for all! I have _no _influence on Tig's vote and never will!"

She yanked her arm out of her heart - brother's hand and stormed across the lot towards her bike. "I can't believe you'd even think I have any pull with him on club business!" she snarled, pawing through the Yamaha's trunk for her stash of flavored cigarillos.

'Whew! I keep fergettin' she 'as a mean temper!' Chibs quickly followed after her to explain himself.

"Tayke it easy, sister! Noboddy belayves ye influence tha lad!"

"Huh!" she snorted angrily. "All y'all could've fooled me!"

"Lady Cat, after alla this tyme, do ye really thin' Ah'd ashk ye ta do ennythin' ta hirt 'im?" Chibs protested. "Tha cloob needs all tha manpower we can git. Tha' includes an ahshat lyke Kozik! It's fer tha greater gud."

Cat stuck one of the cigarillos in her mouth, lit it, and inhaled deeply while glaring at her friend. "Been readin' Dickens lately? That's usually _my _line!"

Chibs grinned and spread his hands in resignation. "Watched a leetle Star Trek tha other day," he admitted. "Remembered ye sayin' sumthin' aboot the needs of tha many oot weighin' tha needs o' tha few."

"Or the one. I get ya. No promises, darlin'. But _if_ he mentions it, I'll tell him I'll support whatever decision _he_ makes. I expect all y'all to do likewise."

"We do support Tig, darlin'," Chibs put an avuncular arm around her and winked. " Why do ye thin' Ah brot this ta ye in tha furst playce?"

Cat snorted as she blew a plume of smoke through her nostrils. "Speakin' of the devil, here he comes and he doesn't look very happy."

Tig's pace and his forbidding stare telegraphed his displeasure. He glared at the cigarillo she held in her hand. "What did this asshole say to ya to get ya smokin'?"

He reached out and snagged the thin cigarillo from her hand. He placed it in his mouth and inhaled on it. "Ya changed flavors!" he exclaimed. "This is blueberry!"

She wrinkled her nose. "Woman's prerogative, love!"

He glared at her, then turned his glare on Chibs. "Spill it! What'd ya say to her to stress her out?"

"He didn't upset me, love!" she replied, taking the cigarillo back from him. "Sometimes smokin' just helps me unwind. It has been a little busy for me!"

Alex glared from her to the very innocent looking Chibs, then back at her. "Uh, huh. I'll bet!" he growled disbelievingly. "But I'll let it go - for now. Ya ready?"

She nodded and winked at Chibs. "See ya when I see ya, brother!"

Alex grasped her elbow and walked her back to the Cruiser, opening the door so she could climb into the passenger seat.

"I'll be back in a second," he growled, retrieving the cigarillo again and shutting the door on her. He motioned to Chibs to walk with him from the car.

"A'right. Tell me what ya told her to set her off," he snarled.

"Jest paved tha way fer tha two o' ye ta talk aboot Kozik," Chibs shrugged.

"Shit!"

"Relax, brudder! Ah thoot it wuld be a gud idee ta tell 'er aboot tha vote so it wouldna coom ta 'er as a nasty surprise!" Chibs protested.

"Isn't that my job?" Tig growled.

"Aye. Boot she knows now, an' in 'er condithun, isnae it better she 'ear it frum sumone who isnae close ta tha problem lyke ye?"

Tig considered his friend's explanation for a few minutes, then nodded. "Guess you're right about that, but you came dangerously close to oversteppin, brother."

"Ah'll remembur tha' in tha footure," Chibs grinned. "Ye too be cairful on tha road, an' 'ave a gud tyme!"

The two shared the standard 'bro hug' then Chibs waved at the PT where Cat sat waiting and watching them from the rear view mirror. Bobby and Clay had walked out of the clubhouse and Chibs joined them at the picnic table. They pretended not to be interested in the PT's occupants.

Tig was both displeased by the possibility of Kozik's permanent return to Charming and upset that Cat already knew about the bond situation. 'I'm not in a fit mood to discuss Kozik with her. Might not come up at all. I just don't see how I can vote in his favor!'

He settled behind the steering wheel, slamming the driver's door hard enough to rock the vehicle. He started the engine and threw the gear shift into drive without buckling his seat belt, much less mentioning hers.

Cat waved goodbye at Chibs and the other club members as the PT peeled out of the lot. The sound of squealing tires made Clay wince. 'Easy on the rubber, man!'

'Whew! Somethin's pissed him off!' Cat couldn't miss Alex's stormy behavior. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. He frowned out the windshield, his jaw determinedly set.

She knew from experience not to talk to him when he was in such a mood. She sat quietly, watching the buildings pass them in a blur. The only sound in the car was the quiet 'snik' of her seat belt latch as she pulled it into place.

Alex glanced over at the sound of the seat belt being secured. Despite his anger at the situation with Kozik, he grinned in satisfaction. "Thanks, baby."

She grinned at him. "Y'all are welcome. You were lookin' a little intense there. Rough meetin'?"

He nodded, keeping his attention on his driving. "Guess I should explain where we're goin'."

"I figured y'all would get around to it eventually," she grinned. "Obviously the van's been spoken for."

"Yeah. Jax is loanin' us his truck. It's Mopar, by the way," Tig replied.

"Well!" Cat smirked. "There's hope for the boy after all!"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! That's the VP you're crackin' wise about!" he admonished her.

"I know," she purred.

Alex didn't have a chance to comment as he turned onto Jax's street. The grey pickup was parked on the street in front of the house. He pulled into the drive, then backed onto the street to park ahead of the truck, beyond the drive.

"Here's the keys. Go get in the truck. I'll lock the car and be there shortly."

Cat accepted the keys and grabbed both her CD case and a cassette case, so they'd have something to listen to on the road. The pickup was unlocked, so she placed the cases on the floorboard of the passenger side, then used her good hand and the hand bar built into the roof to haul herself into the truck's cab and closed the door. She debated with herself over putting on the seatbelt, then decided to be nice and put it on without being told.

Alex slipped from the PT and walked around to the hatchback, opened it and removed the airmattress bag. He checked to make sure the air pump was in the bag as well, then closed the hatch and locked the PT using the remote. He strode to the truck, slid behind the steering wheel, and tossed the bag into the back seat of the cab.

"Y'all still in a sour mood, love?" Cat inquired.

"A bit. Ya mind if we don't talk for awhile, baby?" he replied apologetically, noting that she had already buckled the hated seat belt. 'Damn! I was sorta lookin' forward to bucklin' it for her!' .

"OK to play some tunes?" she countered.

"Sure."

She reached into the cassette case, as the truck didn't have a CD player, selected something she felt appropriate, and slipped it into the cassette player. "Then let the music play!"

Springsteen's '_Born to Run_' blared from the speakers. Alex nodded his head while one finger tapped the beat on the steering wheel. He visibly relaxed as they put a few more miles between them and Charming until he was humming along with '_Detroit Rock City_.'

'Music can definitely soothe the savage beast,' she mused, watching Alex out of the corner of her eye. 'He was definitely a little savage earlier!'

He glanced over at her, caught her measuring look and grinned apologetically. "Sorry, baby."

"No worries, love. You OK now?"

He reached out, laid a hand on the nape of her neck and squeezed gently. "Gettin' there. Think we both needed this trip."

"I agree," she replied, rubbing her cheek against his arm. "Once we're far enough away from not so charmin' Charmin', maybe we can pick up some take out and stop somewhere for a bit."

Alex smiled roguishly. "I'm thinkin' that'd be a good thing. Why wait for take out, though?"

"Because you could use a little food. Especially if you're gonna exert yourself," she grinned back.

"I like your way of thinkin', baby." He grinned again and slid his hand along her back and side to rest on her thigh. "You have some other good attributes, too."

"Nice of you to appreciate the whole package, and not just the outer wrappin'," she replied, covering his hand with her own.

They rode along in companionable silence for several more miles, then stopped at a restaurant for take out. Alex consulted a map while she waited for their order and determined a good place for them to stop for a little 'R and R'.

Cat agreed to his plan on her return to the truck. 'The sooner he gets this outta his system, the sooner he'll open up.'

Alex pulled off the main road onto a gravel country road. He followed it a couple of miles to a tree lined area with a lake. "Wish I brought the fishin' gear," Cat mused. "Looks like a great spot for it."

"It's good for other recreational pursuits," he leered, putting the gear into park and switching off the ignition.

"Uh, huh. So which do y'all wanna pursue first, love? Y'all hungry?"

"Yeah, but not for food," he replied, opening his door and running around the front to open her door. She started to climb from the truck, then shrieked as he scooped her into his arms and carried her to a shady area.

"Alex! What's gotta into y'all?"

"As if you hafta ask!" he growled, lowering her to the grass and returning to the pickup to retrieve the air mattress.

It took just a few minutes for it to inflate under the shade tree. He turned to her with a suggestive gleam in his eyes. "So, ya gonna take those off, or do I cut 'em off ya?" he growled.

"I'll take 'em off!" she squealed. "I didn't bring a change of clothes!" She hastily undressed under his heavy lidded gaze, then stretched out on the mattress. "Well?" she challenged invitingly.

He undressed in record time and lay down beside her, gathering her to him and fitting her willing body against his. "I love how you fit me," he murmured, running his hands all over her.

She returned the embrace and caresses without comment. She instinctively knew he needed the physical release more than he needed to hear her talk to him. 'That'll come later. It usually does.'

His mouth closed over hers, questioning and demanding. She answered him without hesitation, giving and receiving the pleasure he offered until they lay completely spent in each other's arms, listening to the birds singing in the trees around them.

"I think I'm hungry for food, now," he grinned, stroking her hair as he held her close.

"It's probably cold," she replied warningly.

"That's OK. Not your cookin', so it don't matter to me so long as it's edible," he replied. "You are permitted to serve me, woman."

She slapped his arm, careful to avoid jarring the bullet wound on his back. "Got news for ya, love, you done wore me out. 'Fraid you'll just hafta serve yourself!"

"You'll pay for that, woman!" he growled, getting up from the mattress and shrugging into his jeans.

"Considerin' you're getting' dressed, I don't think there's much to worry about!" she joked, reaching for her clothing.

"Leave 'em alone, baby," he growled, retrieving the take out and carrying it back to the mattress. "There's dessert to think about."

She grinned challengingly at him. "There's thinkin' about it, and then there's actually havin' it, love. But if y'all want me to eat au natural, I can handle it."

"You'd better," he growled again, handing her the food and shucking his jeans before settling on the mattress next to her. He leaned against the tree trunk, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"How's yer back?" she asked.

"OK. How's all yer injuries?"

She grinned impishly at him. "You're just _now_ worryin' about it?"

He grinned sheepishly as he ate. "No. I worried the whole time. Ya didn't complain, but sometimes ya keep quiet about that shit."

She sipped her drink, grinning over the cup at him. "I'm fine, love. Really." She sipped some more of her drink to hide a grimace from a twinge of pain from the infected incision in her side.

They ate quietly, alternating their food with caresses and kisses. Eventually, Alex's found himself wanting the dessert he'd been looking forward to.

As if reading his mind, Cat covered her drink and slipped her remaining food in the bag. "If you want dessert, why don't you put this back in the van so it doesn't invite pests?"

He quickly complied, then returned to the mattress where she lay waiting for him. "You sure you're up to this, baby?"

She reached out to his full erection, grasping it firmly in her hand. He groaned as her hand squeezed as it slid lovingly down its' length. It was all the answer he needed.

* * *

><p>Ally Lowen slammed the receiver back onto the phone cradle with so much force her entire desk shook. 'Goddam Federal government! It's no wonder things are all fucked up, given all the red tape they tie themselves in!'<p>

She'd spent several minutes being transferred from one department to another withint the US Attorney's office. No one seemed willing or able to answer her simple inquiry. She'd had to restart her telephonic quest a couple of times when the call had suddenly disconnected on the other end. She had a feeling it was deliberate, and that didn't help her temper.

'So I'm just supposed to wait for a call back,' she mused angrily, making notes on the legal pad. 'This stinks of Stahl's mechanations! I know she had something to do with all this blockage. She's good at covering her back. I don't want to have to tell Clay that she was tellin' the truth, but I may have no choice!'

She knew from personal experience what it meant when Federal law enforcement used delaying tactics like she'd just endured. That knowledge didn't bode well for Gemma future. The only thing she could do was wait for confirmation or a denial from the US Attorney. She was working on their time frame. She hated it, but she had no choice but to play their game by their rules.

* * *

><p>Cat and Alex had to make up for the time they'd lost at the lakeside. "I think we took too long back there," he mused, glancing at his watch again. "That church secretary ain't gonna wait all night for us."<p>

"We'll get there in time. You're doin' the speed limit, and it's not that much farther. If we don't make any more long stops, we'll be fine," she assured him, laying a hand on his knee and squeezing gently.

"At least, no more long stops on the way there. Can't promise about the way back," he grinned.

They'd already crossed the state line and were close to Klamath Falls. Cat had called Gemma for a contact when Alex realized they'd left without getting a key to the Madoc house.

"That would help you, wouldn't it. Don't need Tig getting in trouble for breaking and entering!" Gemma laughed.

"What makes you think Tig would do the B and E? I'm pretty capable when I hafta be!" Cat retorted, writing the number on the notepad she always carried in her jacket pocket.

"I know you are, kitten. Glad you're with him. You two need this time together."

"Don't worry about the boxes. Alex said you'd marked 'em and put 'em in the basement. If you think of anything else y'all want, give me a call."

"Thanks, kitten. Be safe." Gemma replied tiredly.

"Get some rest, Gemma. See ya when we get back." Cat then called the church secretary to make arrangements for them to get access to the house.

Her eyes widened in surprise at the size of the Madoc residence. "Damn! Ministers must do good in this neck of the woods!" she muttered, thinking of the simple home her father and step-mother had retired to in Southern Indiana.

"Gemma said Rose had money. Never let Nate forget it, either. She wanted the finer things in life. Guess this is one of those things." Alex replied. "Frankly, I think it's a little much." He shuddered at the memory of the Hummel figurines that had haunted him.

"Same here. I'm perfectly happy with our place. It's just right." she observed, sliding down to the ground from the passenger seat of the truck.

"It's more yours than mine," Alex muttered, looking around for the church secretary. Nate's Cadillac had been sold the day Gemma and Tara had placed him in the nursing home.

Cat walked around the truck to stand in front of him. She glared up into his eyes. "Now listen here, bucko, it's _our_ house, plain and simple. What's yours is mine and what's mine is yours. Deal with it!"

He laughed and embraced her, resting his chin on her head while she wrapped her arms around his waist. "A'right, baby. Consider me dealin' with it."

They turned at the sound of a car approaching. A mid size Lexus sedan rolled to a stop in the drive. A middle aged woman with copper red hair got out of the vehicle and approached them. Two young men remained seated in the back of the sedan.

"Mr. and Mrs. Trager I presume?" Jean Peters inquired, gazing somewhat contemptuously at their casual apparel. She was well dressed in a silk suit. A Coach purse was slung over one shoulder.

Alex body stiffened with apprehension to hear the secretary address them as a couple. He glanced inquiringly at Cat, who didn't seem upset, and decided to follow her lead. 'If she's not upset by it, I won't be. Not like it's gonna get back to Charmin'.'

"Guilty," Cat replied frostily. "You were expectin' the Rockefellers?"

'Touche. She's feisty. He looks like he could hold his own as well,' the church secretary glanced at the knife holster at Tig's side. "Mrs Teller mentioned you were here to retrieve some things she wanted from the house."

Cat winked at Alex, calling attention to the more polite behavior of the church secretary. "Yes. If y'all will be kind enough to unlock the door, we'll get the boxes loaded and get outta y'all's hair. Thanks for comin' out to let us in," she added, her voice oozing Southern charm.

Jean Peter's eyebrows rose inquiringly at the sling holding Cat's arm. "Mrs. Morrow mentioned, Mrs. Trager, that you were recovering from a wreck, so I brought my boys over to help."

Alex started to protest, caught Cat's smile and settled back to let her work her magic. 'This is gonna be fun!'

"Why, thank y'all greatly. This bum wing of mine would make the work take longer. A pair of extra hands would be appreciated," she drawled with a sweet smile.

Alex coughed back a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand and turning his back to keep the woman from seeing his expression. 'Don't overdo the sweetness, baby. Don't wanna give the woman diabetes or somethin' like that!'

Cat jabbed her elbow in his ribs. "Behave yerself, love!" she hissed at him.

Jean gestured for her boys to get out of the car. The two teens were tall and well muscled. Between them and Alex, Cat knew it wouldn't take long to get the truck loaded.

"Let's go inside, shall we?" Jean added, moving to the back door to unlock it.

Alex smirked at the woman's hasty retreat. Cat jabbed him in the ribs again. "Glad y'all are enjoyin' yourself!" she hissed again.

"Lovin' every minute of it!" he grinned, then quickly sobered. "I'm gonna keep the woman busy for a minute, I need ya to handle somethin' for me."

"What's that?"

He told her which bedroom he'd slept in, and about the bloodstained sheets left on the bed.

"No worries, love. I'll take care of the DNA for ya. I doubt the estate sale will suffer the loss of a change of bedclothes!"

His hand grasped the nape of her neck to caress it. "Thanks, baby. Glad ya have my back." He replied, following the church secretary into the house.

"Bathroom's down the hall, baby," he announced loudly, giving her an excuse to walk towards the bedrooms.

"Thanks for sharin'!" she groused good naturedly, limping towards the hallway.

"Anytime, baby!" he called after her, frowning as Mrs. Peters seemed intent on following Cat to the hallway leading to the bedrooms. He hovered near the basement door to talk to the two young men and listen in to Cat's conversation with the church secretary. .

"Have you guys ever been here before?" he inquired.

The pair shook their heads.

"Lemme go on ahead and turn on the lights for ya," he replied. "Just give me a minute." He strode to the basement door and headed down the stairs, flipping the light switch next to the doorway.

'At least the kids don't know the light switch turns on all the basement lights! I'll cut the tape off the wheelchair, then call 'em on down.'

He ran down the steps to the wheelchair Tara had uncovered to display to Jax just how 'old lady' she'd become by helping Gemma kill the caregiver. He unsheathed his knife and quickly cut the strands of duct tape, rolling the strips into a ball and placing it on the worktable.

"OK, guys! C'mon down!"

The youths filed down the stairs to join Alex, who pointed at the scattered boxes. He tried not to think about what Bachman had done to get rid of the caregiver's body. 'The sooner I'm outta here, the better I'm gonna feel!'


End file.
